


A Promise For Eternity

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, All Prompts, Angst, Canon and Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Everything basically, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, LMAO, M/M, PegoRyu week, Pining, Spoilers, dialogue improvised, some things is non-canon too i guess, this is super-coherent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: It's hardly a secret to anyone that Akira and Ryuji finding each other and staying together is more than just a coincidence. It's meant to be. It's fate.Through ups and downs, they'll learn that even if things aren't always easy, they can conquer all as long as they're one.Forever.[#8: The couple-off is hardly more than a random argument between siblings - except it means so much more, and Ryuji falls in love anew.]





	1. Destined Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I'd gift this to everyone who motivated me to do this, and who I know will also provide wonderful content here, but I doubt that ao3 would be able to fit all these amazing people in the gift tag (without making it look like a mess, LOL!!)  
> Still, shoutouts to all of you, you KNOW I'm looking at you right now and I can't wait to see all the wonderful things everyone here has created.
> 
> And with that...  
> HAPPY START OF PEGORYU-WEEK. <3

#1 Meeting

The first time their eyes ever meet, everything's decided.

It's a fact neither of them could be aware of at the exact point in time, but when Akira follows the energetic boy down the backstreets towards Shujin academy, both of them equally surprised to find a weird-looking castle – although confused for different reasons, he assumes – he feels a faint glint of hope light up in his heart. After all the months of being alone, of no one believing a single word he's said, of being abandoned, he wakes up in a dark, smelly cell, the same boy shouting for someone to let them out.

 _It's no use,_ Akira thinks. And yet, he never wants to see him stop trying. The way he sees him fight against their imprisonment, the injustice they've been thrown into, reminds him of the energy, the eagerness he himself has long since lost, buried underneath the rules and lies that have been forced on him ever since _that night_.

He pushes himself up from the so-called bed, still dizzy from the heavy hit he took earlier, shaking his head to free it from at least a bit of the pain.

“Open this goddamn-! Hey! 'bout time ya came to, dude. It's been at least half a fuckin' hour, and none of these bastards,” he points at the weird-looking guards not far from them, “even listens to me!”

 _How vulgar_ , is the first thing Akira can think, eyes inspecting the clenched fists on the iron bar door, white knuckles trembling with anger. It doesn't really bother him, in all honesty. He's seen people harass and humiliate others with the sliest words imaginable. If anything, this guy being honest about his feelings is refreshing, _promising_ , and Akira would listen to that over any of the petty lies and false accusations.

Deciding it's not worth trying to explain his thought that whatever is going on here, the guards definitely don't even really _notice_ them, Akira runs a hand through his hair and watches the boy try again, again and again, until a weirdly familiar face confronts them – the man they saw earlier in a car, driving away with one of the other Shujin students. Except he's entirely changed, from his questionable outfit to his attitude to his piercing, yellow eyes.

It's quite obvious that something is very wrong – for a moment, Akira considers having hit his head on something and being unconscious, or dreaming, but he very well knows it's actually way too real for that, so he backs away a step in caution. All of this, the blood rushing through his veins, the way his eyes widen, how he feels his heart beat in his chest, how minutes pass by in seconds and seconds drag on for what feels like hours…

It's exactly, precisely like back then, when he saw the man fall and hit his head, when sirens came closer, when the police cuffed and forced him into the car. It's the same kind of desperation when he realizes just _how_ real all of this is, that they're not in a bad TV show or some sort of act.

 _He's going to die_ , Akira thinks.

“Run, dude!” The voice sounds close, yet far away. He can see the boy being pulled up from the floor, held up against the wall, choking and trying to fight, visibly scared yet angry. It's wrong, it's _unjust_ , and looking at those desperate, frustrated, twitching eyes, Akira clenches his own fists, holds back tears of the memory of what happened back then, reminds himself that crying will not get him anywhere, that no one will come to save them if he doesn't do it himself. The world is corrupted, and the way its justice works will never be something he can accept.

A voice explodes in his head, a powerful whisper, asking, _demanding_ him to vow to it, makes him relive the memories of that night, his desperation, his fears, how it all turned him into who he is now – a single, lonesome soul without guidance in a world so full of pain and injustice.

Nails burying into the skin on his cheeks, Akira forces himself to look up – at the boy mere feet from him, who he knows will _die_ right before his eyes if he doesn't help.

 _Where has helping ever led you?_ It's the little devil on his shoulder, trying to convince him that there's no use in fighting, that he should give up, accept his fate and beg to survive.

_Then, was your decision a wrong one?_

“It wasn't.”

He barely hears his own voice, but his fingers stop shaking and his mind suddenly eases; he can think again, feel again, judge again. And in this exact moment, where all eyes in the room are on him, he can feel something on his face. An annoyance. A _stash_. Acting on instinct, he grabs it by the corner; it's heavy, it hurts, he needs it off of himself right this instant, like an insect digging deep into his blood, pumping poison into his veins.

Realizing that his skin comes off painfully along with it, he tears – so angrily, so _strongly_ that the mask eventually slides out of his hand and fades into blue flames. In that moment, Akira understands. There's no justice but the one he creates, forms himself, and he can't help smiling at that very same thought when the blue flames consume him, birthing him anew.

 

Later, he hardly remembers the incident, but he still feels the aftermath of the weird otherworld lingering in him – his fingers tremble with weary anticipation, his mind tries to wrap itself around what has happened to them, how something so entirely supernatural is even possible, but he doesn't find a solution.

What he does find, though, is an anchor. And unlike everything he's previously expected, it doesn't come in the form of clinging onto his future or regretting the past. Instead, he finds everything he's never believed the world could give in the single pair of vivid, cheerful eyes, the wide smile and the overwhelming attitude of just one person.

“I'm Ryuji Sakamoto, but just call me Ryuji!”

And Akira nods quite contently; it may seem ridiculous, tacky even, but he lets his mind murmur the name and finds it pleasant, endearing even. _Ryuji_. It's soft, it's welcoming, and if he were to have his way, he'd never imagine a single day without the supportive voice, the appreciative clap on his back, the angered yet understanding words about his past, his probation.

In months, no matter how many times Akira has explained himself, tried to get people to believe him, no one has even so much as looked at him properly. Not former friends, not the judge, not even his own parents.

But right here and right now, all it needs are his shy, reluctant words, devoid of hope that Ryuji will believe him – it's enough to be understood, this once, because instead of turning away, instead of abandoning him, the criminal delinquent transfer student, right away, Ryuji _listens_ . And he leans in, visibly wanting to hear more, and his eyebrows furrow and his fists clench, and it's so much that Akira finds himself backing away just a little because he's simply _overwhelmed_.

But either way, he ends up finishing his story, finds himself adding detail that he never bothered telling anyone, because no one ever cared to listen long enough to get there. When he finishes, Akira finds himself needing to take a deep breath, eyes never torn from the way Ryuji scowls, bites his lip and shakes his head, then throws his fist onto the table a little too hard, causing the chef to give them a dirty look. Needless to say, neither of them care; Ryuji is visibly too occupied with being angry to even cast over a look, and Akira is still in awe about the fact that someone listens to and seemingly understands him.

“It ain't fair, man. You didn't even do anythin' wrong, dude. Seriously!”

And it is in that moment that their eyes meet, Ryuji looking like he's at the brink of tears, Akira finding himself unable not to smile at the genuine kindness given to him for the first time in what feels like forever; it's in that exact moment that he realizes that them meeting has actually been so much more than just that. They aren't some random kids from the same school that ran into each other or had to share a textbook in class.

It may sound too spiritual, maybe even paranoid, but when Akira thinks back at his initial fear when he arrived in Tokyo, remembers his anxiety and insecurity, he suddenly can't help chuckling at it. Who would've thought that all it needed for him to accept this new reality was a confusing, second cognition and the most dedicated, genuine smile the world could ever offer?

With that thought in mind, he can finally let his mind rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://bluetenspleisser.tumblr.com/). <3


	2. From Now On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really big on weddings, so I went more with something like a "vow" between two people here. I hope that's fine! <3

#2 Vow

It's a quite ordinary Sunday, all things considered.

The request itself is a bit extraordinary and different from what they've done before, Ryuji knows that, but he still hopes he's not coming off as too needy or clingy. Even though it's early morning, there's a soft smile on Akira's lips when he arrives – there's no doubt he's slept until right before getting here, but he looks blissful enough for Ryuji to not feel bad.

“Sorry for textin' ya in the middle of the night.”

“It's fine. I hadn't been sleeping then anyway.”

 _Of course_. Knowing him, he'd still been out doing some dangerous stuff, hanging in Shibuya or working one of his way too many part-time jobs. Typical Akira in a nutshell, really.

“Oh, cool. Anyway, let's go then!”

They do.

It's the first time they try out the Ichigaya fishing pond together, although Ryuji has been to it a good amount of times on his own before. It's open like, all night, and the only other people you'd find are some old men who wouldn't bother you. He surely doesn't give Akira that as a reason for coming here, though.

There's a decent amount of other people around, but it's not too bad for a Sunday. Any other day would probably have been a bit more private – a better choice considering the topics on Ryuji's mind, really – but there's a reason he's been wanting to come here today.

They sit in silence for a while, and he finds himself able to relax and patiently watch Akira wait for a fish to catch his lure. It's a little mesmerizing how still he sits, how calm and collected he looks. It always seems to be hard to distract him in his ways, as if whatever he focuses on always has all of his attention.

Silently, Ryuji wishes he could be so dedicated about things, too, still.

“So, what brings us here?” Akira suddenly asks while reeling something in – a small fish, but nothing bad nonetheless. More than Ryuji would've gotten in such a short time, and by far.

“Oh, I, uh…I was thinkin' 'bout some Thieves business.”

He scratches the back of his neck and swallows nervously. Of course, that's half of the truth – there's things on his mind he wants to settle, wants to make sure of, and some of them are not for any ears to hear other than Akira's. But of course that's not all there is to it. That's not the reason they're already here early in the morning, as if their time were fleeting.

“Oh?”

“Y-yeah.”

He's been thinking it through all night long, and he probably has the worst eye rings from not getting any sleep, going for a run as soon as the sun came up and then heading here right away – and yet, watching Akira hooking another piece of lure, eyes meeting casually as always, Ryuji's at a loss for what to say.

“Just…wonderin', y'know?” he starts then, frowns and looks down to where his foot is lying on his good leg, bouncing nervously, not helping him calm down in the slightest. How could he ever put into words what the whole Phantom Thieves ordeal means to him, what it's given him, how scared he is of ever having to let go? What could he possibly say to make Akira understand how much he and him leading all of them throughout their missions has changed all of their lives for the better? Why would he even want to _hear_ all that and-

“You can spill your mind, Ryuji.”

He flinches and looks up again, sees a warm, comforting, yet slim smile, a raised eyebrow, the cocky way Akira lifts his head like whenever he's feeling especially poised again. It reminds Ryuji of the Metaverse, and maybe that's ideal, because as long as he doesn't have to be a weak teenager scared of being neglected again, as long as he can see himself as _Skull_ , he knows he's safe, and he knows there's nothing to fear.

“'lil worried 'bout the future,” he adds, swallows then harrumphs in embarrassment but keeps up a grin, hoping that it's enough to not make him look or sound or generally seem entirely ridiculous.

“Worried?”

“I mean, kinda! I'm not sure though…but like, when this all ends one day…I wonder.”

He watches Akira's hand move slightly when a fish bites, how he looks to the water, furrows his eyebrows, seemingly considers but then lets the fish get away and puts the rod to the side, crosses his arms and turns his body so that they're facing each other. Then, without any indication or warning, he says – as if it's nothing, as if it's the simplest thing to say to someone:

“You know we're friends for more reasons than being in this together, right?”

And because Ryuji's self-control hardly surpasses his self-appreciation, he blurts out:

“Oh?”

The following silence is a little heavier than he'd have expected, and _a lot_ heavier than he'd like. It hasn't been his intention to make things dramatic or get some sort of validation from Akira – really, all Ryuji meant to do today was to get his thoughts out of his system and spend a good day with the best friend he could ever have.

“I-I didn't mean-!”

“Let's go somewhere else.”

Akira doesn't sound mad, so Ryuji decides not to get anxious yet.

Maybe for once in his measly life, he hasn't entirely fucked things up from the very start.

\--- ---

They end up heading back to Shibuya and getting some Frui-Tea in the diner, occupying the seats in the very last corner where hardly anyone can listen in or bother them. Ryuji likes the spot, because it means he doesn't have to have himself under total control in order to not get in trouble.

Somehow, it's charming to think that Akira probably chose it for them for that very same reason, instead of ditching him like anyone else would have.

“So. Do you want to talk about it?”

 _No_ , he thinks, not even sure what there is to talk about. He's self-deprecating and especially lonely these days, but that's nothing new enough to be worth talking about.

 _He's_ not really worth talking about.

“No idea whaddya mean, dude.”

He shifts a bit in his seat, sips on his Frui-Tea and tries to evade Akira's piercing eyes – of course he knows what Akira's talking about, but that doesn't mean Ryuji wants to say a single thing about it.

“Well, fine. I will talk about it, then.”

Swallowing nervously, he nods, looks up again. Maybe if he makes it seem like he's totally collected and chill about all of this, Akira will let it go.

…what a delusive thought, really.

“I don’t appreciate the way you treat yourself, Ryuji.”

 _Obviously_. Right to the point and straight-forward. Normally, it’s one of the things he admires about Akira, but right now, he’s the one at the receiving end, and needless to say, that immediately makes it a lot less welcome. But he doesn’t want to worry his friend, doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s too weak to take care of himself.

So naturally, Ryuji lies.

“I’m treatin’ myself fine, dude. Are ya honestly mad about that joke I pulled?”

“No.”

What a definite statement in itself.

“I’m mad because you’re lying to me. To my face, even.”

He’s a dozen times too perceptive for his own good, and he lacks the basic human instinct to hold back on his thoughts to not make himself or the person he’s talking to uncomfortable. Maybe, Ryuji guesses, that’s why Akira gets along with so many people so well, even after having been labeled a criminal delinquent, a troublemaker, some sort of bad omen.

“Y-yeah…maybe? Shit, I’m sorry.”

He looks into his tea, bites his lip and sighs. There’s no getting around telling Akira the truth about everything _one day_ , but Ryuji never planned to spill all the details on why he’s not as positive and happy all the time _so early_ into their friendship.

And especially not today, of all days.

“I think I know what the problem is, though.”

He taps the table nervously, just until Akira reaches out and stops him effectively, intertwining their fingers like a sort of vow. Ryuji can’t help but laugh a little, because that’s kind of dramatic. How does Akira know if he himself hasn’t truly understood it in all these months ever since things have been going down so immensely? Why has Ryuji yet to understand what is is that makes his life feel so worthless, such a bother to everyone around him?

“Funny you say that, dude…’cause I don’t.”

“You’re scared I’ll ditch you if you tell me the truth.”

“D-dude, no!”

_You’re right, and I hate it._

He shouts so loudly that a few heads turn to them, and immediately apologizes quietly when the waitress gives them a really dirty look. Good thing they chose this spot, really, or they’d probably find their asses on the street right about now. Just one of the many examples why Akira’s right – if they get thrown out, Ryuji knows it’s his fault, and he’s so, so, _so sick of…_

“I’m sick of things being _my fault_ , man. Ain’t it better if I keep my truth? People leave when things get ugly, and I don’t want ya to leave. You happy?”

He pouts, knows that he’s turning red, and puts his chin on the table to make himself smaller. This _so_ isn’t what he’s planned for today.

“Happy? No. Satisfied? For now, yes. Here, I brought you something. Or…us, I suppose.”

Akira pulls something out of his huge bag, and it isn’t even half-way on the table when Ryuji’s already blushing. He’s absolutely and one-hundred percent sure he didn’t spill anything about today, and so far, Akira hasn’t made it sound as if he knows, but there really is no other explanation for…

 _That_.

“Somethin’? That’s huge, whatever it is.”

Ryuji’s well aware of his defensive words, but as long as there’s but a single ounce of doubt in him, he doesn’t want to scream _Thanks!!_ and tear it open.

“Sure…you’re not unpacking it?”

“You said it’s for us.”

“Right. I want you to open it, though.”

He does.

Usually, big boxes contain small things that are either just wrapped really well, or there was no smaller box available, but it figures that for Akira, things are different. Which means, the carton is filled up, and Ryuji decides to carefully put it on the side to access the insides easier.

There’s a calendar with two columns to write on for each day, and sticky notes with both skull and flower designs that go with it, apparently. He looks up, eyebrows raised.

“You mentioned you and your mom often missing each other and sending hasty texts because of it. This way, you could write notes for each other if something’s up.”

For the record: Ryuji isn’t crying, you’re crying. The only reason his lips tremble and his eyes water is that surely, someone’s cutting onions somewhere, and he only blushes because it’s unnaturally hot.

…that’s what he’d like to tell himself, at least.

“D-dude, you didn’t have to. Th-thanks, though…”

“There’s more.”

Right. Even though this would’ve been more than enough already.

He takes another look, and pulls some neatly folded and rolled up clothes out. Feeling the soft, comfortable fabric is enough for him to know that they’re gym clothes, and he already sees that they’re close to what he already owns in both cut and design. Lastly in that bunch, there’s some sort of tape. All things considered, he supposes it’s kinesiology tape, something he’s always been too proud to try out – maybe because doing so would have felt like admitting that his body would never be the same. Maybe because he always feared it wouldn’t actually help.

“Since you’d stopped running before we met, I figured you hadn’t tried this out yet. It might be junk, but I figured it’d be worth a try.”

“Yeah, no…definitely. I was just too…arrogant to consider relyin’ on somethin’ like that, y’know? Felt like givin’ in an’ all.”

“Oh? Suddenly, my stance towards my glasses changed immensely.”

Before Ryuji can even look up, Akira’s chuckling. _Way to drop a brick, Ryuji,_ he can’t help thinking to himself, and he’s well aware of the deepening blush on his cheeks.

“Goddamn, I’m fuckin’ stupid, ain’t I.”

“It’s fine. Come on, that’s still not all.”

Shit, _right_ . There’s still another thing in the box, and Ryuji’s remotely scared of what it might turn out to be. Eventually, though, he realizes he doesn’t have to be. It’s two hot pink headbands – and he laughs in amusement because he _really_ wants to see both Akira and himself in them, but then he turns them around and reads the words that are written on them, almost chuckling, but immediately freezing in his movement.

“ _What the fuck.”_

“Imagine us wearing those in ten years.”

Sure, he does, but unlike Akira has most likely intended, Ryuji doesn’t laugh, because it dies right in his throat, makes him swallow hard. Maybe he’s interpreting too much into this, but somehow, this gesture alone feels like a sort of vow, like a commitment, and he can’t hold back the shiver that creeps down his back because of it.

He really wants it to be a commitment.

“Jeez, man. Thanks, but…isn’t this all a bit too much? I ain’t even sure where this came from suddenly, and like, I appreciate, but-”

“Ryuji.”

He shuts up immediately.

“If you’re still insecure about it, that just means I need to try harder. Anyway, what I originally intended to say with this…”

And because it’s Akira, he obviously can’t let things end without a last surprise, without some sort of blast that makes Ryuji want to both run in embarrassment and equally jump into his arms and hug him until neither of them can hold onto the other any longer.

“I’m not going anywhere, and I want to make sure that next year’s will only get better than this one, so please, Ryuji. Don’t keep things like this from me.”

“Y-yeah. I’ll try, man.”

 

Later that night, when he’s lying in bed and still turning the ridiculous hairband in his hand questioning how he deserves a friend as great as Akira, Ryuji looks up when his phone goes off. It’s three notifications calling him out immensely, but he can’t mind.

_**From: Kurusu Akira** _

_22:47: I bet you didn’t check the card out._

_22:47: I saw it lying in the carton before we got up and left._

_22:48: Morgana picked the design , by the way._

No doubt about it. It’s a cake made of small pieces of Maki and Uramaki, and for once, Ryuji can’t even be mad. Sweets aren’t really his thing, after all. He turns the card around, clenches his fist that’s still holding the headband and grins widely, because it’s everything and so much more, and when he types back to answer _I’m all in for_ _that_ _!_ , his fingers shake and it takes him a lot more nervous backspacing than he’d ever admit. Eventually, he convinces himself that he really read it right by looking at the card again.

_Happy birthday._

_Let’s make this the first of many we spend together._

Underneath, there’s a detailed icon drawing of his skull mask and nothing else, the simplicity of the whole thing making it all look almost too much like some sort of wedding invitation card, but that’s a thought he definitely keeps to himself.

…that still doesn’t save him from Ann giving both him and Akira the dirtiest, most annoyed look the next day when they, without talking it over, both show up wearing each of their headbands. It’s ridiculous and suspicious, but he doesn’t care, because the looks people give him can hardly get any dirtier anyway.

Later that day, he ends up with a new phone lock screen, making sure that the lettering of both of their hot pink disaster accessories is pushed into focus right underneath the clock, reading:

_dirty criminals_

_since 2016._


	3. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be surprised that the actual date is the one thing that doesn't happen in this fic, but I...wanted to give more importance to the impact it has, no matter how it went! (Well, ofc.)

#3 First Date

“Is this a confession?”

He knows the answer before asking, knows that Ryuji will turn red and look at him in disgust, knows that it will make things awkward if he doesn’t reel back on it really quickly, but just this once, Akira allows himself that. After all, it might be the last time he’s able to.

“Ew, no! What the hell, dude!”

“I was kidding.”

He wasn’t, but that’s fine. It has been clear from the beginning that some things won’t change, and no matter how close they are, that doesn’t erase, doesn’t undo the small little barriers, the walls between them, the fear of society.

So, Akira doesn’t blame Ryuji for reacting the way he does, for pretending he doesn’t see it, doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When they climb up the stairs half an hour later, none of the weird feelings manage to keep lingering. Akira really appreciates it, because after all this time, after having spent so many days in a cell and so many nights dreaming of another cell, he doesn’t think he has the power to accept any awkwardness between the two of them.

Ryuji has always been his pillar to lean on, even if unknowingly so, and it’s the one thing Akira can’t deny being the most worried about losing. It’s all there when they loiter around in his room, his freshly made bed, fluff up the sheets and turn them into a fortress on the floor with the help of some pillows. The feeling of being home, of being right where he never wants to leave. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and there’s not a single place that could ever mean any more to him.

After hours, right in the middle of their second anime season that night, Ryuji finally speaks up, and for once, Akira doesn’t have the courage to say anything in return.

“Time sure has passed, huh?”

Instead, he reaches out, moves closer and rests his head on Ryuji’s shoulder, hums wordlessly and hopes that it’s enough. He’s not ready to accept the future, and he’s not ready to let go.

Silently, he begs that he doesn’t have to.

\--- ---

It’s heartwarming to see how many people have missed him. Akira isn’t used to that, because even up to this day, he’s aware that his parents haven’t missed him one bit – even with his criminal record deleted, he knows that he’s hardly more than a nuisance to them – a problem that can be fixed by spending some money, by pretending that they’re good people for taking him back in.

But what he truly wants lies here, and it hurts to know that everyone he’s seeing these days might never see him again; friendships can be fickle, and no matter how much he hopes for people not to forget him, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“You worry too much, Akira,” Makoto tells him, somewhere between the two of them trying to figure out their future schedules already; being prepared can never come too early, that’s something they’ve learned the hard way.

“I suppose you’re right,” he answers, sighing in defeat. Things have been too wild for him to focus, and the more he thinks about ways to stop the time from passing, to make the best out of it, the more he feels it slipping between his fingers. It’s only two more weeks until his departure back home, after all, and that means half of his time to come at peace with everything has already passed.

He’s not even anywhere close to said peace.

Not a single of his belongings has been packed yet, except for those, of course, that have never even left the cardboard boxes. He’s had both Makoto and Haru scold him for it already, Makoto telling him that he shouldn’t try pushing unpleasant things from himself as if they’d magically disappear, Haru insisting that it’s best to do it early so he could at least fully enjoy the remaining days.

He knows they’re absolutely right. But something inside tells him that as long as he keeps things the way they are – from the ramen bowl on the shelf to the star stickers on his ceiling – the future won’t come. If he refuses to pack, he can’t go home. If he believes that enough, he might find a way to stay.

It’s not even that far-fetched, really.

He’s close enough to Kawakami for her to arrange something even in the nick of time, because usually, it’d be too late to apply to stay at Shujin. There’s also no doubt both Sojiro and Futaba wouldn’t even consider minding him stay – they’ve both urged him to fully move in more than once, something he’s solely refused for exactly the same reason he’s so torn right now.

He wouldn’t know how to let go again.

 _Why can’t you stay_ , they would say to him. _There’s gotta be some way._

They’re not wrong. But even he isn’t invincible against everything, and especially against his own mind. He knows he can always come back in a year or two and they’ll lovingly accept him back.

The same definitely _can’t_ be said about his parents.

And if he has the choice to make up with them at least enough to make his peace, he definitely will. Even if it means a year apart from the people he loves the most, who love him the most. Besides, even after all is done, he’s still labeled, even if not by the law, and he doesn’t want to be a bother for any of his friends.

If he leaves now and returns later, everyone can recover from all they’ve been through.

He tells himself that that’s enough to let go for now.

\--- ---

There’s less a week left for him in Tokyo when the message pops up on his phone. He doesn’t unlock it, but checks them by swiping down.

_**From: Sakamoto Ryuji** _

_03:12: I’ve been thinkin’, dude._

_03:13: It’s not much longer, so…_

There’s a long nothing, but Akira almost aggressively forces himself to wait it out, make it seem like he’s not awake or not looking. It’s some sort of instinct, telling him he should let Ryuji finish with whatever he’s going to say.

Then, eventually:

_03:19: Ugh, screw it._

_03:20: I ain’t good with words so let’s hang out tomorrow, k?_

_03:22: Some things I feel like we should talk thru._

_03:23: Nothin’ bad though, dw!!_

_03:25: Just felt like makin’ some plans for the future would be smart. Like, I dunno, when you’re_

The message cuts off there, urging him to unlock his screen and open the chat app to read the rest.

He doesn’t. At least not right now.

Morgana gives him a dirty and equally bored look for it, absolutely done with his charades, but Akira pretends he doesn’t notice, puts his phone to the side and closes his eyes. Whatever it is that’s waiting there, he knows he won’t sleep if he reads it, and considering he doesn’t even think about not accepting the offer to hang out, he knows he’ll _need_ sleep.

That night, his dreams are filled with images of loss, of letting go and never looking back. It’s restless, haunting, and when he wakes up, the first thing he does is stuff things into his boxes, leaving only what he truly needs outside.

He’ll never be ready, that much is for sure. But when he finally unlocks his phone, he knows packing now has been the best decision, because had he read the messages earlier, he probably wouldn’t have ever done it.

_03:25: Just felt like makin’ some plans for the future would be smart. Like, I dunno, when you’re gonna be free, holidays, weekends, that stuff._

_03:26: Well, if you wanna, ofc._

_03:30: Jeez, I suppose you’re asleep. Hah, shit, it’s late._

_03:32: Lmk if you wanna meet when ya get up. Night._

There’s nothing he wants more, for the rest of the week if he could have his way, or the rest of the month or the year or forever-

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he answers briefly.

_10:14: Sounds good._

_10:15: Wanna meet in Shibuya at noon?_

The answer – which is merely a thumbs up emoji – comes promptly. He decides to leave his phone on the bed, gets dressed and heads downstairs to make coffee. There’s not a single customer around right now, a fact that he certainly doesn’t mind. Sojiro gives him a questioning look but doesn’t say anything, and Akira appreciates that immensely. They haven’t been talking that much lately, and they both know what’s up, but he doesn’t want to discuss it yet, no matter how little time there’s left. He quietly drinks his coffee, he quietly eats his curry, and he quietly goes back up to tell Morgana he’s heading out. Then, after a lecture on how hopeless he is, he puts on his glasses and grabs his phone before leaving.

Just when he’s halfway out of the cafe, he hears words addressed to himself.

“It’s time to finally come clear, don’t you think?”

He nods silently and hums, never turning back.

Maybe it is.

\--- ---

Even though he’s a little early, Ryuji’s already sitting at the platform in Shibuya, legs crossed, sweepingly raising his hand with a wide grin spread on his face, getting up right when Akira comes to a halt in front of him.

“There y’are! Let’s head right to Inokashira, a’ight?”

 _Something has him fired up_ , Akira thinks, raises an eyebrow and shakes his head slightly. _No. Nervous._

“Sure,” he says then, nods and buries his hands in his pockets. He wonders why they need to go there in order to talk, but he doesn’t mind the rather cool weather and now that it’s so close to spring, the park finally gets prettier again.

Perhaps it’s a good choice to go, since he doesn’t even know when he’ll get the chance to see it again.

It’s quiet when they get there; some people enjoy the increasing temperatures, but it’s nothing too wild. Luckily, that means they still find a good, rather secluded spot at the pond. Nothing intimate or secretive, but private enough for Akira’s mind to ease; he’s been especially paranoid lately, maybe because of the long time in a prison cell.

“You wanted to talk?” he offers quite abruptly, trying to sound casual, even though the way Ryuji shifts around and kneads his fingers somehow makes him nervous, too. He’s aware that they’ve been evading a few ugly topics about him moving away. Everything about not being able to see each other whenever they want anymore, about having to attend schools where both of them are labeled delinquents on their own, about the loneliness of losing the person they’ve started taking for granted over the course of all the time they’ve been spending together.

“Y-yeah, right. There’s a ton I wanna say, but at the same time, I think I shouldn’t? Is that weird.?”

Akira shakes his head immediately, because he knows the feeling all too well.

“You can tell me,” he offers patiently, a little desperately even, wanting to hear, remember, keep everything Ryuji might ever say. Instead of any long revelations, memorial throwbacks to whatever they’ve been through, he says but a single thing.

“I ain’t ready to let you go.”

There’s a painfully long, incredibly heavy silence following right after. Akira _knows_ , and he feels the same, and he doubts he’ll _ever_ be able to let Ryuji go, be it tomorrow, in a week, a year or when either of them dies one day.

He doesn’t _want_ to.

“I’m sorry,” he simply answers then, even though it’s nowhere close to enough. It doesn’t change anything, no matter how true it is. Being sorry won’t stop time, and it won’t prevent the possibility of them growing apart in some way during the years to come.

“Nah, don’t be. What I, uh, wanted to say by that, was, ugh…”

 _Definitely nervous_ , Akira finally concludes, although he’s expected it earlier. It’s unlike Ryuji to act that way around him, but then again, things have been rather different in the last weeks, so it might have to do with that.

“I was thinkin’ we should end all this with, like, some sort of _big blast_ , y’know? Somethin’ special, somethin’ different from hangin’ out playin’ games – n-not that that weren’t great but, like, _oh god damn me._ ”

He falls quiet, blushes deeply and looks away. It’s incredibly charming to look at, so Akira finds himself chuckling a little and can’t keep himself from saying:

“That…strongly sounds like some sort of date, you know?”

And regrets it instantly, because it reminds him of Valentine’s Day, of the awkward silence between them, of the obviousness about how differently they feel, so he cautiously adds:

“Ah, sorry. I wasn’t-”

“N-no, stop!”

Ryuji almost shrieks so Akira immediately shuts up, swallows and nods. If he’s gonna get called out or insulted or left sitting here on his own, he supposes he’s ready to take that blow. He doesn’t expect that, but he’s ready.

The blow comes, and it hits him right in the face, although quite differently than he’s been expecting.

“M-maybe, just _theoretically_ , somehow I _could have_ uh, y’know.”

And Ryuji’s voice goes so quiet that Akira has to lean in to hear him, has to lean their shoulders together to be able to comprehend the words.

“I mean, like…m-maybe I intended for it to…sound like that?”

He doesn’t doubt for a second that he’s heard the words correctly, but Akira still pinches his arm for good measure, without looking away from the single sweat drop forming on Ryuji’s temple, the way he cautiously bites his lip, almost aggressively forces himself to keep on looking straight forward.

Suddenly, the totality of life seems to make a coherent sense in Akira’s mind. Every doubt he’s head, every single chunk of worry fades, washed away by words he’s never expected to hear.

Honestly, it’s a bit ridiculous, sappy even, but he couldn’t care any less when he inches closer, smiles softly when the body next to his own shivers, twitches but then leans in too, a chuckle causing him to open his eyes after not even remembering that he’s shut them.

“I…suppose that’s, uh…”

“It sounds great, Ryuji.”

Finally, Akira knows he’s ready to let go.

No. It’s even more than that.

\--- ---

Somehow, spending time together knowing that it means more than ever before has been both wholesome and painful at the same time, but Akira supposes that’s to be expected when you know that you’re on a timelimit.

He nods when Ryuji asks him to come see his hometown, but tells him that there really isn’t much to see there.

He chuckles when Ryuji comments on how that can’t be true as long as _he’s_ there.

He keeps his mouth shut tightly when they part that night, knowing that from tomorrow on, everything will change, and a whole new future will finally dawn.

 

Out of respect, he pretends to be surprised when his friends pick him up in Shibuya. He already knew before, and both Futaba and Morgana being gone in the morning isn’t exactly inconspicuous, but he still does his best to look up in utter shock when he’s being called over by his friends, all waiting in a bus that reminds him of Mementos, just better, ready to get him home.

He smiles at the thought.

“We’ll stop at the beach,” Makoto announces – another thing Akira has already known but kept secret. Apparently, they’ve all planned this through for at least two weeks now, and he’s glad that they’re trying to make their last days together a good one, but he’s also really glad that he knew about this in advance.

It’s surprisingly carefree, all things considered. After all, they’re basically enjoying their last time together for quite a while, but everyone does their utter best to not show it. Ann suggests making marshmallows later with a wide smile on her face. Haru agrees, adding how she thinks that they go very well with tea or coffee. Yusuke is busy drawing some sort of inspiring scenery that surely no one but him would understand. That’s fine, though – they’ll love the finished piece either way.

Makoto busies herself making future plans with Morgana, because he’s coming with Akira after all, and it’s a little funny how the cat keeps the conversation up for so long. Akira can’t help but smile at their attempts to keep things normal, especially when he feels a pat on his back and turns to the side where Ryuji drops down into the sand, sighing passionately, grinning from ear to ear. He’s composed, maybe a little more so than needed, but Akira lets him. After all, they have at least a little time left, and he’s going to make all this as memorable as possible.

Eventually, they end up being the only ones who are still up, although there’s still light and giggles coming from the girls’ tent, but that could hardly bother them. If they stay awake for long enough, they might be able to watch the sun rise, and with it, the future, like a new era that’s to come.

Suddenly, he can’t wait to see it.

At some point, when he feels the body next to his own calm down, slump against his, soft, steady breaths soothing his mind, he closes his eyes and smiles contently.

He’s made the right decision.

\--- ---

It’s when they’ve finally finished packing, everyone ready to head back into the bus and face the reality they’ve all been trying to push away, that Akira finally stops them. They’ve been brave, dedicated, and he may feel at least a little bad about not letting them know before, but he knows that they’ll forgive him for taking his time with deciding, for keeping it to himself for as long as possible.

“Everyone, I’d like to say something…before we leave.”

Seven pairs of eyes lie on him, five insecure, one bored, one excited. Morgana’s still more than done with his charades, and Futaba has been waiting for this moment for days now, so he can’t blame either of them.

“It was kind of a last-minute decision, so please don’t get mad. Anyway, I…I’ve decided not to go home, after all.”

He hasn’t even finished the sentence when he feels himself thrown into the sand – by Ryuji, unsurprisingly. There’s an offended gasp coming from Ann, a soft hum and comment about how wholesome all of this feels from Haru, and he swears he can hear Makoto mumble something about _what if we hadn’t stopped here? How did he know?_

He leaves it to Futaba to explain all that, because he’s busy fighting against the strong arms trying to tickle him until he’s out of breath, which isn’t as easy as it sounds because he’s already laughing. It might be a bit cruel, but it’s all worth it, and given the chance, he’d do it again.

“You…dude, y’serious? I fuckin’…the hell!”

“Nice language, Ryuji!”

“Shuddap, Ann!! You ain’t got no idea what I went through thinkin’ this guy was leavin’ me!”

Apparently, Ryuji is so busy being offended by not having been told that he can’t even be embarrassed of making clear how all of this has affected _him_ personally.

Akira can’t really say he minds, though.

When they all get back into the bus after everyone has had their fair share of staring him down and hugging him tightly, he’s still smiling happily. This is all he’s ever wanted, and so much more.

Somewhere a few minutes into the drive back to where he belongs, fingers slowly search his. It’s shaky, it’s shy, but it’s determined, and he turns his head and nods, squeezes the hand and doesn’t let go until they arrive.

He’s finally ready.

Finally ready…

To never let go.


	4. Collecting The Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this one has filled me with so much...painful pleasure and satisfaction.  
> I promise I'll make up for it in the next one. ;)  
> For the best experience, please consider reading MusicalDefiance's and canticle's [[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141161) and [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128984) respectively] First Fight fics before this one. They're not directly related, but the three of us all feel that they make a good trinity in that order :3c

Bad weather didn't use to be something that could easily bring Ryuji down, but lately, it sure as hell does. Maybe he's being hypochondriac, but he swears that he feels every single muscle in his bad leg when he jogs through a park to get to his destination faster, and he's also  _ entirely _ sure he can blame it on the rain pouring down on him and not on his leg being shit in general these days.

He's  _ so _ not having a good day, really.

The muddy earth beneath his feet screeches, a sound he normally wouldn't mind but hates today. It's a nuisance, it annoys him and he wants it gone. The closer he gets, the more his lungs rebel against the moist air he's breathing in. The faster he runs, the more his leg hurts, and yet whenever he slows down even just a little, it gives him time to think and  _ god damn _ doesn't he want to think.

A notification sound interrupts the music blasting in his ears but he ignores it. Maybe it's the Phantom Thieves group chat, but he doesn't want to talk to any of them, really. Maybe it's Akira, and something in Ryuji snaps just considering that possibility, makes him come to a halt and bend over, bury his nails into his knees, eye his everlasting injury angrily.

“ How could I not see it?” he asks himself, bites his lip and closes his eyes in order not to double over and faint. His breathing has been absolute shit because he's been so busy being angry, and he knows he'll pay the price.

He makes it to Yongen-Jaya a lot faster than he's expected, yet a lot slower than he would've wished. The streets are empty yet full like they always are – not really packed, but considering how narrow they are, it still feels full, even so late in the day. Passing by the alleys, he casts a look towards Leblanc but re-decides fast – there's no way he'll find him  _ here _ , where there's no way to lock himself up and hide.

Unsurprisingly, Ryuji doesn't have to ring the bell for the door to open – Futaba's already waiting for him, because  _ of course _ she always knows where any of them are and  _ of course _ she's aware that something's wrong with their friend, probably just as clueless about what to do as he is.

“ Couldn't make it earlier, last train left like an hour ago,” he explains although he knows there's no need to, and she just nods silently.  _ Right _ , he thinks and suddenly feels especially sorry for her. Even though she's opened up quite a bit in all the time they've known each other, she's still insecure and shy, and situations like this one, where she's undoubtedly powerless, make her anxious.

Ryuji only looks into the living room shortly, nods before heading on and swallows hard, just once, before knocking on the destined door. There's no answer – of course there's no answer – and not any other kind of reaction either. He's absolutely sure that it isn't locked, because it's never locked no matter what happens, and yet, bursting in doesn't feel okay, doesn't feel  _ right _ . So he knocks again, hand on his pocket ready to shoot a passive-aggressive message in case he doesn't get an answer soon. In the very same second his fingers reach his phone, he feels it vibrate and checks. The words  _ it's open _ pop up, and if he weren't so indescribably mad about  _ everything _ , he'd probably be able to grin at that.

Needless to say, he sees absolutely nothing to grin about right now, and instead let's his phone disappear into his pocket again before entering, painfully aware that what's waiting for him is going to be anything but nice, and that nothing in the world could prepare him for it.

He's right about that, by the way.

“ Akira…dude, the  _ hell _ .”

It's not what he's thought would be his first thing to say, but honestly the only one coming to mind when he sees his best friend sitting on the floor right next to the bed, shoulder leaning against the frame, legs pulled up close to his body. Everything about him screams  _ vulnerable _ , and if he weren't so scared of what could happen if he did, Ryuji would storm over and pull him into a tight hug.

“ I told you I'm fine.”

“ And I told you I ain't buyin' that bullshit. Turns out I was right, wouldn't'ya say?!”

He lets the door fall into the frame and buries both hands in his pockets, fiddling with the fabric because he needs to do  _ something _ with them to be occupied or else he knows he'll start screaming a lot faster than he's planned – if planned is the right name to give it, because of course he doesn't  _ want _ this fight, it's just that it seems inevitable.

“ If that makes you happy.”

_ No, it doesn't _ , he wants to say, even though he knows it's all just petty words in order to get him to leave; really, Ryuji might not always be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he also isn't an idiot, contrary to people's common belief. He knows when someone acts ugly on purpose, and he especially knows when Akira, his best friend, his  _ everything _ , tries to hide not only his problems but also himself. It's rare, but it's definitely happened before – it just hasn't ever been so drastic, with him looking like he's going to pass out, flinching when Ryuji takes a first audible step on the floor, hugging his knees more tightly and turning his head away as far as possible.

In front of him, there's pictures – a photo album, it seems, or at least maybe that's what it used to be, because some of the photos are torn in half, others turned around, but most of them lie on two different piles. Ryuji isn't sure if he's ready to understand them, but he definitely knows that it's about time he tries, so he drops to his knees and picks the first pile up. Akira winces quietly, but he doesn't stop him, even when Ryuji looks through every single photo, raising an eyebrow.

They're family pictures, that much isn't hard to see, but that doesn't mean it makes any kind of sense. As far as he knows, Akira not only isn't in contact with his parents, but he also never even hinted that he owns any kind of family memories. Him sitting in his way too dark room, covered up in a huge blanket, going through these photos looks wrong, feels wrong, and when Ryuji suddenly realizes that, he decides to pile all the pictures up and shove them away from both of them, gets a hold of the blanket, making sure not to touch Akira because he can see that it would be too much, and stays like that – on his hurting knees, may they be damned, almost aggressively focused on taking calm breaths and not letting himself get angry.

“ Please say  _ anythin' _ to me.”

It's barely more than a whisper, yet his voice still shakes immensely. He's never quiet, especially when he's mad, but his own feelings don't matter right now – if shutting his mouth in order for Akira to talk to him is what he needs to do, he'll do it.

“ My parents called. Last week or so.”

“ 'bout what?”

Ryuji doesn't remember that being mentioned before, which means it hasn't been mentioned before. He wouldn't forget something like that.

“ They wanted to see me for…uh.”

And he can see Akira struggle, can see him try to press himself further into the bed frame before eventually,  _ finally _ looking over and biting his lip as if that could stop it from trembling – it doesn't, but Ryuji still pretends he doesn't see, and just slightly moves his arms to suggest a hug.

It's accepted and claimed before he's even fully opened his arms.

“ My birthday,” Akira then adds shyly, eyes slowly closing at the soft petting on his hair, but eventually sighs and opens them again, takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“ I don't remember a single two-digit-birthday that they didn't neglect me, so why care now? I…shouldn't have asked them that, I guess.”

And then it dawns on Ryuji. He looks back to the photos and past them, finding just what he's expected – a cardboard box, most likely having been sent in the mail. His intuition tells him that the inevitable answer will make him mad, yet he says what he thinks anyway:

“ If ya tellin' me they sent you this as some sorta threat, I'll fuckin' scream, man.”

“ It's their very unique way of letting me know that I'm not part of the family anymore.”

Ryuji doesn't scream, which takes him a whole lot more composure than he'd like to admit, but he does clench his free hand to a fist and scowls, bites his lip and shakes his head. It's absolutely unbelievable.

“ I…dude, I dunno what to say. Just, why didn't ya tell me before?”

“ There was no reason to be a bother about something you couldn't change.”

_ A bother. _

He can't even begin to list all the reasons why that's wrong, but apparently, it shows on his face, because Akira sighs, struggles to get out of their admittedly very uncomfortable hug and gets up to move over to the cardboard box few feet from them, losing the blanket in the process. The first thing Ryuji notices is how he limps slightly, the second thing he sees is the way Akira stumbles, as if he's close to doubling over. He doesn't, although that's most likely only due to the fact that he drops down to his knees right away and rummages in the carton, apparently looking for something specific. Eventually though, he just stops, keeps sitting there turned away, taking deep, calm breaths, refusing to let go of the thick paper, yet unwilling to look any further.

“ Akira?”

He shakes his head as if in a trance – slowly, steadily, buries it in his hands and sobs exactly once. Then, he takes a deep breath, struggles to get to his feet and looks up at the ceiling before finally turning around. He's composed, more so than Ryuji wants him to be, hugs himself and keeps the safe distance. None of this is alright, and even though the thing with his parents is  _ horrible _ , there's absolutely no doubt that it isn't the only secret he's been keeping for a while.

“ When did ya stop trusting me so much? And why didn't I notice…”

Honestly, he can't  _ only _ blame Akira for it, because there have been tons,  _ millions _ of signs that Ryuji has been accepting as  _ if Akira wants to spill it, he'll spill it. _

Except he's never been one to get vocal about his worries, his own problems, always busy accepting yet another part-time job if he feels like he needs to buy something nice for a friend's birthday, never stopping at anything to make sure absolutely everyone around him is as happy as they can be.

Figures that in the process, he ended up sacrificing his own happiness for it.

“ I trust you.”

“ Bullshit. Look in a goddamn mirror and tell me that again. You're a mess and ya haven't said a fuckin' word.”

He gets up, too, knows that he's glaring angrily, but he can't help it. Not only is Akira absolutely self-destructive these days, he's also entirely oblivious about it, puts it off as  _ I'm the leader _ or  _ if I don't, who'll take the bullet _ and maybe he isn't entirely wrong about it, but he definitely also isn't  _ right _ .

“ I've said it before. I didn't want to be-”

“ Be a bother, yeah, y'know what? Save it. After all this time, after all we, no…let's be real here, after all the shit  _ you've _ been through, that's how ya feel? Does  _ you saved all'o us _ ring even the smallest bell to ya?”

He flinches, backs away, almost trips over the cardboard box and the second Ryuji sees him stumble, his eyes fly open and he's ready to forget all his anger, all his  _ disappointment _ and rush over to catch him, but luckily, the fall never comes.

Just this once, he wishes it would, if only to be there and prevent the impact.

“ You're blinded, Ryuji. Don't make it sound like it was ever all me.”

“ But it  _ was _ all you! Neither of us would be here without ya – cut yourself some fuckin' slack, man; you sacrificed so much for all of us.”

“ I'm not your comic book hero!”

It's the first time Ryuji has ever heard Akira yell at him, and it makes his heart sink right through his legs into the floor. Suddenly, he realizes in all their time together, be it as friends, be it as Phantom Thieves, be it as regular students after all that has ended, there's never been an instance where they truly  _ fought _ .

Maybe that's why even only thinking of it as that scares the hell out of Ryuji. Before he can reel in, before he can stop things from getting worse, he sees Akira bite his lip, narrow his eyebrows and take a deep breath, as if he's finally ready to let it all out, finally ready to spill everything that's been bothering him for weeks or months or maybe even  _ years _ .

In the blink of an eye, Ryuji realizes he's not ready to hear it. He's not strong enough – maybe he'll never be. But it's too late already.

“ All of you look up to me like I'm some movie star, but I'm not. My family finally decided they've never really wanted me, my talking cat refuses to look at me because I'm a mess, I can't sleep and I especially can't keep my grades up because of that even though I  _ know _ I need to! How much more of a failure do I have to become for you to open your eyes?!”

Right after screaming all of that out, he falls dead silent, the only sound in the room his unsteady breath and the nervous clacking of his teeth. Ryuji is equally silent, partly because he's still shocked about having all of that thrown right in his face all out of sudden, partly because in his head, every single one of those words revolves around each other, combining into coherent pieces he's afraid to accept.

“ You…can't sleep,” is the first thing he presses out, because if he were to name one single person he knows who spends all their spare time in bed, he wouldn't even hesitate to shout  _ Akira _ . This confession is one that not only doesn't make sense to Ryuji – it makes him feel sick.

“ A failure,” he mumbles next, trying to understand those words but for the love of  _ God _ , he can _ 't.  _ All of these feelings, these worries – they're what he'd been thinking of himself for countless months before Akira had entered his life, saved him out of his own self-loathing reality, as if it were the most natural, the easiest thing to do.

“ How long've you been keepin' all this from me, man? I thought we'd…I thought all of this was meant to last.”

_ I never stopped believing it would last. _

“ I'm sorry for disappointing you then.”

There's not a pinch of amusement in Ryuji's voice when he chuckles, bites his lip and clenches his fists, shakes his head in disbelief, forces himself not to tear up. After all that they've conquered, he's able to believe that he can deal with many things. Throwbacks on his own physical health, bad grades, people using him as a punching bag – it's as if the time as a Phantom Thief has made him strong enough to deal with everything.

Everything – except for losing Akira.

“ Figures,” he presses out, ignores his voice cracking, ignores the disappointed sigh, ignores how his mind begins trying to find reasons why all of this is his and only his fault.

For not noticing it earlier.

For not having been the friend Akira needs.

For not being able to love him the way he's longing to be.

“ That's why I wanted you to leave me alone. I never meant for us to fight, and all this only makes everything worse.”

“ Well, dude.  _ Sorry for disappointin' you then _ , right? Guess that's just how it's meant to be.”

“ Yeah. Maybe.”

There's another sob, and it's exactly one again – except this time, Ryuji knows it's coming from himself, and he allows it because he feels like there's no reason to try and keep it at bay anymore. All the invincibility, the strength he's allowed himself to build and keep in all this time, starts crumbling off his skin like the armor it has been, like a broken shield unable to protect him from the inevitable truth any longer.

But that's fine. He's been ready to accept that years ago, back when there hadn't been any hope for the future, any perspective for him, any dream to chase and anything to keep fighting for. He might have never thought he'd ever go back to that place, but when he looks at his trembling hands, when he looks past all he's believed there to be, he can accept falling back, and he can accept having to start anew.

Anything if it means even a chance for Akira to be better off, to not have another thing to worry about.

“ Cool. Just…great.”

_ It's fine. _

He needs to tell himself that many times in order to stay calm.

_ It's fine. _

“ You know how you'll reach me if ya change your mind. Y'know that, right?”

Even though Ryuji's anxious, scared even, he takes a step closer, still keeping a distance to not make Akira even less comfortable than he visibly is, and reaches out cautiously, carefully.

“ I do.”

The words are silent, weakened, desperate, and they break him apart at the very core, but when Akira's fingers touch his, shyly pull him closer and into a painful embrace, Ryuji knows that it has to be enough for now. Maybe Akira will avoid him, deal with these things on his own, rely on others, maybe he will accept that he's loved and appreciated. Whatever it is, they can only fix things…

“ One day at a time, huh?”

“ I really hope so, Ryuji.”

\--- ---

Going back home never hurt as much as it does this time. Ryuji's mind is filled with doubts and regrets, the feeling of having messed up, having missed an opportunity, having failed the person who'd meant the most to him ever since being next to his side.

“ I guess that's all I'm good for.”

It's almost amusing how fast he's back to the negative thoughts on himself, but it really had to happen. While he had taken his newfound happiness for granted, the person making it possible had been suffering, keeping all of it to themselves to not hurt him. It's as if this is his payback for letting all that go on for so long.

When he gets home long after dark, his mom is waiting in the kitchen, gestures him to come over and talk about it when he just wants to pass by. While it's a little scary how well she knows, he definitely appreciates it, smiles and finds himself crying his eyes out, allows himself the doubt, the fear, accepts that he's messed up.

“ It's not too late to make things better,” she assures him lovingly, stroking his hair and smiling warmly. He tries to believe that she's right, because when isn't she ever, and nods even though he knows the road is long and rocky, and at least for a while, he'll have to walk it alone.

“ I'll give it my all!” he promises – maybe his mom or maybe himself, he isn't entirely sure, but it's a vow and he's going to keep it, no matter what it takes. He's come too far to let things end now.

When he finally turns off all the lights in his room and sets an alarm for the next day, a message notification pops up – his heart jumps at it and he drops his phone. Maybe, just maybe he tears up a little again when he picks it up, taps on the icon and manages to smile just a little at the words he sees.

_ Maybe we can let today count as day one. _

He's absolutely fine with that, and his fingers shake too much for him to reply – but he doesn't need to, because there's another message right away, and it so perfectly sums up his feelings that he doubts there's anything valuable for him to add.

_ I still believe in a future to claim with you. _

And they will claim it.

One day at a time.

 


	5. Mending The Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long that I will actually have to upload anniversary tomorrow, lol. Sorry? >:

#5 Birthday

It’s half an hour to midnight when Akira starts panicking.

Or, well, when he finally allows himself to admit he’s panicking. Morgana gives him a fed-up look, but that’s more than he’s gotten in the weeks prior, so he accepts it, glad that they’re at least talking to each other again.

“Is it really that hard to call him?”

Physically, maybe it isn’t, but when it comes to his mind – yes. It’s not only hard, it’s exhausting, suffocating, and it isn’t as if he hasn’t tried to push himself to do it. In fact, he’s clinging to his phone, white, thin fingers trembling on the screen, and he’s almost ready to do it, but something holds him back; like an invisible barrier, telling him not to do it, that he’s being a burden again and that no one wants him.

Not his parents. Not his friends.

And especially not Ryuji.

It feels like his mind is dueling with itself. On one hand, he should know better. He should believe the people around him when they say that they care, that they don’t mind him not being alright, but it isn’t exactly easy. Ever since he first came to Tokyo, he jumped into the role of the leader again and again, no matter who of his friends joined the group. It was like an unwritten rule that he’s not allowed to be weak or give in.

 _Great job on that so far_ , he tells himself, drops the phone to the side and gives it a last look before wrapping his arms around his legs.

_11:31pm._

Adrenaline is pumping through his veins, as if he’s expecting something big to happen, but he knows it won’t. Both Futaba and Sojiro have already knocked earlier to get him out, but eventually given up. He doesn’t blame them. Maybe it would actually be better for them if he just suddenly vanished, turned back time and decided to go back to his parents after all.

There, alone in his room, somewhere in a way too big house in the way too lonely village, he at least wouldn’t bother anyone while withering away. No one would have to bother checking if he’s still alive, if he’s keeping up his grades and health and regularly getting out of the room.

Here, he’s a constant burden, feels his own success both in school and life slip from his shaking, weakened hands, the ground having long but crumbled underneath his feet, leaving him hanging on the edge of an abyss he has meticulously, thoroughly dug himself.

He’s breathing, but he’s suffocating.

_11:32pm._

His phone’s display is the only reason he believes that the world hasn’t stood still. It’s flashing bright, time is passing by mercilessly, and his heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his hot, aching ears.

For a moment, he wonders why they ache. Then, he remembers having dreamed about the velvet room again, about the screams of the Persona, pieces of his own mind, begging him not to execute them, not to sacrifice them for something stronger. And he also remembers shooting up with his hands pressed against his ears as if that could stop the voices inside his head.

_11:33pm._

Faster than intended, he gets up. If he remembers all this now, his incoming nightmares will only get even worse, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take that. Morgana calls out for him, but he’s already out of the room, trying to get to the bathroom both as quietly and as fast as possible to splash some icy cold water in his face.

Forget. He needs to forget.

But that’s easier said than done, and even after eventually drowning both face and head, hair and ears and everything in the stream for at least a minute, the only thing he can feel is how all coherent thoughts in his mind slip away.

_Shit._

He realizes too late what that means – when his forehead hits the porcelain slightly, to be precise, but it’s still early enough for him to pull away, turn off the water and shake his head to get it free. It hurts immediately, and it’ll surely leave a bruise, but at least he didn’t drop unconscious, he supposes.

When he gets back and crawls onto the bed, rolls himself into the blanket, his phone screen has gone black. Naturally, he unlocks it, because _who knows_ , but obviously, there’s nothing.

_11:37pm._

He hates that deep inside, he may have expected there to be something, even more so because he _knows_ that he’s brought this empty nothingness upon himself entirely. People have tried to reach out, tried to get or stay in contact, but he’s been blocking it off for literal weeks now.

And then, he’d gotten mail from his parents, including family pictures and old school certificates and all kinds of things like that, letting him know that he’s definitely not wanted anymore.

These days, he can’t even pretend he blames them.

_11:39pm._

Rain and hail start hammering against his window, just another reminder of the foul mood. He’s tempted to go outside, get soaked and hope that the storm may wash his insecurities away.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he gets up and grabs a candle to light, simply for its scent. He actually even only bought them for precisely that, because the minty menthol-fragrance reminds him so much of-

“You’re hopeless.”

He smiles when he gets back, shrugs slightly.

Maybe he is.

_11:42pm._

_It’s not yet time to lose hope_ , he tells himself, because somewhere deep inside, he still believes that someone will remember, call and save it from being the worst day ever. That for some reason, he won’t be haunted by nightmares tonight, won’t find himself wake in a sweat, eyes torn wide open, hand grabbing into the flesh right above his heart, shaking tremendously, waiting to tear it out.

He can’t take even one more night of horror.

_11:43pm._

Memories of last year hit him, how he’s spent the already most cursed day of the year not only alone, but tied to a cold, screeching plastic chair somewhere underground, body so drugged that he could barely remember his name.

He feels sick thinking about it, so he forces himself not to, keeps his eyes on the lockscreen.

_11:44pm._

He remembers the last time they met, even though he doesn’t particularly want to. The look on his friend’s face, the unbelieving shock, the way his fists clenched and his eyebrows furrowed, how hurt and mad and _disappointed_ he was.

Akira can’t blame him. It’s easy to look at him these days and wonder what has become of him. He doesn’t have an answer, even if someone asks, even though no one really does lately.

Which is entirely his own stupid fault, too.

_11:45pm._

“Give it up already,” he mumbles to himself, a wave of anxiety washing away his wish to keep on hoping that something will happen. Where’s the point in wasting time begging for something that won’t happen? Where’s the point in his eyes and fingers cautiously searching for the display again and again and _again_ if nothing about it ever changes?

He takes one last look at the lock screen, which is enough to make him both smile and tear up. It’s from their last summer vacation, where all of the former Phantom Thieves went to the beach together as some sort of nostalgic trip. There’s him and Ryuji, both wearing stupid-looking heart-shaped, deep purple sunglasses, grinning as if there weren’t a single care in their world.

Even if all that was partly a charade, Akira wishes he could turn back time and start over from there. Accept his problems earlier, before they could get out of hand, deal with the potential loss of his remaining contact to his family before they could shove it out of their face.

It’s pathetic, because he knows that looking back will get him nowhere. No matter how much he wishes for it, there’s no way to turn back time, and it would be so much more effective to tackle all this in the here and now, but…

He can barely keep himself functioning, and even that’s exhausting. Getting up everyday, dragging himself to school, evading his friends, dodging Ann’s looks and questions, trying to focus on school; it’s too much already, and it’s burying him, barely giving him a chance to dig his way back up, even if he really tried.

Lately, he wishes someone reached out and grabbed his arm, forced him to get out of the hell he’s thrown himself into. But all attempts fade before they reach him, before he feels forced _enough_ to accept it.

It really _is_ pathetic.

And so is checking the phone again, even if he knows the truth.

_11:50pm._

Ten minutes left. He hides his head somewhere between his knees, clings onto them and allows himself to sob. It’s quiet, weak, at least until he feels something soft brush against his arm, his side – a warm, living presence. Maybe it’s because he’s glad, or because he’s sorry, but whatever the reason, he starts crying, reaches out shyly, pets the soft, neat fur and feels the string around his heart loosen just a bit when it’s accepted, returned even.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough and hardly audible, looks up and stretches his legs, awaits some sort of lecture, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Morgana jumps on his lap and curls up, the soft purring vibration calming him down enough to steady his breath.

“Don’t be.”

He tries, fails and chuckles dryly. He’s messed up and he knows – the least he can do is accept it, somehow try to make amends, even if it’s hard.

“It’s not too late, you know?”

But it is.

Manipulated by the words, he dares look again.

 _11:55pm_.

“It’s fine. I’ve got myself to thank for this. Not like he hasn’t tried.”

“You’re so naive sometimes, Akira!”

He flinches, more confused than offended by the words. Is he? The only times he remembers having been truly naive are when he bought the salt stone from Chihaya years ago…

Or when he tried to convince himself he could deal with things on his own.

“Am I?”

“He’s _stupid_ at times, but he isn’t…you know. An idiot!”

 _Where’s the difference_ , he’s close to asking, but he believes he already knows.

_11:56pm._

Still, even though he’s determined and sure that it’s too late to call or shoot a text, he finds himself turning the phone in his hand, considering, just theoretically, what would happen if he unlocked it, opened the chat and let his thoughts flow free into a storm of wild words.

For a moment, he can breathe freely. He’s sure it would be liberating.

 _11:57pm_.

Loud thunder wakes him from his dreaming trance. He hasn’t even noticed the storm getting worse, but now that he listens in, the rain has become louder, too, hail relentlessly crashing against his window like a plead to be let in.

Perhaps, it’s time for him to finally let it.

_11:58pm._

He finally unlocks his phone and opens the chat app. Somewhere inside, he knows that whatever he’s going to type, he’ll never send it, but sometimes, seeing it written is enough already. There haven’t been any messages since the night after the last time they saw each other. Day one. Theoretically, today would make the sixth.

If Akira had any kind of courage in himself.

_11:59pm._

His hands get sweaty, tremble with the anticipation of repeating the past. Even though he’s had days, weeks maybe to prepare for it to come, he isn’t anywhere near ready.

He isn’t ready to spend yet another birthday like this, hidden away in his room trying to make himself believe it’s alright, it’s _fine_ and he can deal with it. He isn’t ready now, he surely won’t be ready in a minute and the lump forming in his throat doesn’t help one bit either.

He watches the screen, the small clock in the corner, wipes his tears with his sleeves just so he can see it better and face reality.

What else could have happened, after all?

_12:00am._

There’s a loud, dull sound right in front of his door, and an enthusiastic knock on it right after. It’s probably Futaba, although it’s a bit eager even for her, especially considering the time.

Either way, Akira decides that he’s been hiding for long enough, and that even if it’s going to hurt, he’s at least willing to take, to appreciate the things he still has.

It doesn’t really end like he’s expected it to, to put it simply.

There’s a piled up tension, like an electric wave right between them, but that doesn’t diminish the soft, welcoming smile he faces, the raised hand greeting him, the unsteady breathes that are but the legacy of what seems like an exhausting run.

“You’re soaking,” is all he can manage to say. It’s not clever and definitely nothing that needs to be pointed out, but it’s the best he can come up with in his shock. There’s a nod, nothing else – a safe distance between them, like he’s asked for; suddenly, he wishes he never had.

“W-why are you here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

He can feel his lips curl up immediately. There’s hardly anything rarer than Ryuji being sarcastic, and Akira loves it.

“But I guess it’s some guy’s birthday and the weather decided to be some huge asshole and let me get into some hella shitty storm. I really hope the stuff’s fine.”

“The stuff?”

He fiddles with his waistband to keep his hands occupied, to not let himself fall forward and beg that he’ll be caught – considering how defense he’s been last time, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to step away and let him fall to his face.

Not that he believes Ryuji would do that.

“Yeah. Took forever to reach everyone, but eh, whatever. Hey, boss offered some hot chocolate, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Neither of them moves, both wait for the other to take the first step. Then, just when Akira forces himself to take a deep breath and go ahead, Ryuji reaches out – slowly, carefully – and wipes the ugly tears from his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“You don’t have to-”

“I wanna.”

They stay like that, still a cautious step apart, but close enough for Akira to reach out as well, cling onto the soft fabric of the fluffy hoodie, still keeping his eyes up even though his mind screams at him to let go, look down, turn away and hide himself.

He’s been hiding for long enough.

Eventually, arms wrap around his shoulders – wet, cold, and he immediately wants to go fetch a towel, but he’s held back.

“’s fine. Warm enough in here’n all.”

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t matter. Just…a minute, ‘kay?”

Falling silent, he nods.

If anyone asked him, he’d gladly take more than a minute, too.

There’s quite a surprise waiting for them in the kitchen, too. Sure, hot chocolate like promised, but there, on the table between Futaba and Sojiro waiting for them, there’s…

“You didn’t have to.”

“Akira! Dude, come on. Stop makin’ it sound like anyone’s here outta pity.”

_But aren’t you?_

“Right. I’ll try.”

It’s the first time they celebrate his birthday – last November, it _kind of_ got buried underneath Thieves business; he remembers again, the kicks to the stomach, the feeling of warm blood pouring down his face, the hands violently grabbing him, the shoes pressing him to the floor, breaking a rib or two or a whole cage, leaving him breathless, wanting to die.

Snapping out of it, he inhales sharply, eyes blown wide, lips trembling, hands desperately searching for _something_ , _anything_ to hold him steady, keep him on his feet.

He’s crying again, and he hates himself for it.

There’s a hand on his wrist and another on his back before he can fall over, right before he hears a shocked gasp from Futaba.

“It was today,” she whispers, silently enough that he hardly hears it, but still loud enough that _he_ _hears it_. Suddenly, Ryuji’s hands feel like fire, his care like bad intent, the welcoming room suffocates Akira and he wants to run.

He never wants to see that place again, even though he knows he will. It’s been in his dreams almost as frequently as the velvet room. He doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to be tied up, defenseless, hurt, alone.

He never, ever wants to be so close to giving in again.

“I…can’t,” he manages to say, fighting against the urge to break free and run. Not a single part of him is ready to relive that memory, and now, it’s stronger than ever.

“Hey, let’s…let’s get you over?”

It’s almost a question, so he nods shyly, knows that if he says a word, he might as well throw up along with it.

He can’t breathe.

…

Even when he’s tucked into bed, leaning against the warm body next to his own, he can hardly breathe. It’s a robotic function – he adjusts it to the hand combing through his messy hair, the steady breaths next to himself, the strong heartbeat right where his head is lying on Ryuji’s chest.

Closing his eyes, Akira tries.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, and it’s a bit ironic, because he gets the very same answer as earlier.

“Don’t be.”

And he tries again and fails again and chuckles again, even if a little less dryly than before. Maybe now that he’s not alone, now that he’s safe and secure and held tightly, it’s alright that he fails.

“I’ve been trying so hard,” he says, although he isn’t sure if that’s the truth.

“Yeah. You’ve been tryin’ too hard.”

Maybe now, he doesn’t have to be strong.

 

He shoots up whenever, unable to pin down when he’s fallen asleep or how or where he even is. For a small, short moment, his mind is clear of everything – not a single thought or emotion courses through him. Then, all out of sudden, the big, gray clouds return, and it pours down on him, corrodes him like acid rain, leaves him decaying like a flower that’s lost its bloom.

Immediately, he’s crying again. And just half a second later, he’s wrapped into a hug, a shield that tries to keep him safe from the horrors he’s seeing in his mind. There’s needles, syringes filled with questionable substances, people bending over him, dirty grins burning themselves into his memory like a branding.

“It ain’t real. It ain’t here anymore, Akira.”

That’s right.

He isn’t back there, lying on a cold stone floor, bleeding and wishing for his life to end, craving the ability to scream, begging his mind to clear up and let him think again.

Instead, he’s in a comfortable bed, in a comforting embrace, and he’s safe. No one can hurt him.

He takes a cautious breath, surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt like he expected it to.

“You’re right,” he hears himself say slowly, voice still weary, but for once, he isn’t scared. Here, he’s secure.

“You’ve always been right.”

“ _That_ ,” he hears Morgana say from the end of the bed. “Sounds a _little_ far-fetched to me.”

“I swear to god, cat, one day…”

Normally, he’d mourn the bickering, but today, he notices how much he’s missed it. Looking at both Morgana and Ryuji, glaring but also somehow beaming at each other, Akira can’t help but think that maybe, possibly, they’ve missed it, too.

“I’ve missed you.”

It’s out before he thinks about it, and he only registers that he’s said it when Ryuji’s eyes widen and he tries to hide the fact that he’s blushing.

“Oh, wow, you’re even more hopeless than Akira!”

With that, Morgana jumps between them, curls up and purrs.

“Maybe that’s why you’re so good for him, after all.”

It’s the first time Akira ever sees Ryuji too shocked to say anything back to Morgana.

If he could, he’d snap, frame and keep this moment for the rest of his life.

 

They start the day off as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary, with coffee and breakfast – which, unsurprisingly, turns out to be curry. Ryuji raises an eyebrow skeptically, because usually, when it’s only the two of them waking at midday after a long night of playing, they don’t start the day with something as spicy.

“You can get something else, kiddo,” Sojiro offers with a raised eyebrow, but Ryuji’s already shaking his head.

“N-no! ‘s fine, I was just…not expectin’ that. I guess I should’a.”

“Sojiro’s curry’s the best and you know it!” Futaba shouts at him and sticks her tongue out.

Akira agrees.

Ryuji doesn’t.

“Sorry, but this guy,” he starts, clapping Akira on the back. “Makes it just the way I can eat it best, so there ain’t no competition. Sorry, boss.”

“That means he’s at least learned something from me.”

Right.

Sojiro’s number one rule to working at Leblanc was to learn about every customer’s habits and serve them either coffee or curry the way they like it best – be it adding sugar to an espresso or some slices of lemon to the curry.

“Ryuji’s my favorite customer, after all.”

Only then does he notice it’s the first thing he’s said ever since they joined the table, and only because of the surprised looks he’s given. There’s a long moment of silence, of him looking at everyone. Then, Morgana makes a disgusted sound, Futaba laughs and so does Ryuji, and if Akira were to squint, he’d probably see the slimmest smile on Sojiro’s face, too.

“Sorry for worrying all of you.”

“Akira no! Ahhh, Ryuji, where did you drop them?!”

_Them?_

“Left ‘em in the bathroom. Carton was wet’n all, so I figured I wouldn’t wanna leave it in the livin’ room.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Both Futaba and Ryuji look over to him, then simultaneously jump up, nod at each other and disappear into different directions – Futaba heading for the kitchen and Ryuji leaving to the hall, apparently to retrieve whatever he’s _left in the bathroom_.

As perceptive as he can be, right now, Akira’s nothing but confused.

“I told you you’re naive,” Morgana says tauntingly, munching on some semi-fancy salmon Sojiro brought him _for the occasion_ , to say it in his own words.

“Oh?”

Before Akira can really wonder what this is all about, both Futaba and Ryuji return – one with a plate in her hand, carrying the same cake Akira hadn’t been able to give more than one short look last night; the other heaving a big, soggy cardboard box on the table, giving an apologetic look.

“Ain’t dry, but, uh…”

“Don’t worry, kiddo.”

“Anyway! Like I said, took forever to get to everyone, so ya better enjoy ‘em, man!”

_Oh._

It’s the first time that it occurs to Akira that someone could have brought him a present, mainly because he isn’t used to them like that. Not like he’s never gotten any before, it just hasn’t ever been a big deal.

“Thanks,” he says before even taking a sneak peek. Whatever it is, it can only be great, although he still wonders…

“Everyone? The others put something in as well?”

“ _The others_ is a bendable term, man. Tons’a people agreed to join in. Mishima desperately wanted to give ya somethin’, Yusuke contacted that shogi player, uh…”

“Ann said her friend Shiho contributed, too.”

“Right! Damn, I even went to your weird ex-Yakuza-creep friend, the guy from Untouchable. Was so fuckin’ sure he’d kill me, but he actually looked quite pleased to be asked, though he tried to hide it.”

Akira listens, but even though he understands every single word, he’s at a loss. All of that is overwhelming – the fact that people have remembered, the fact that they still care, the fact that, even though he’s given none of them anything in all this time, not only are they willing to forgive him for that, but they also _still_ reach out for him.

He’s not crying again, not yet, but he’s on the brink for sure.

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anythin’ then and just unpack this damn thing. Makoto’s gonna destroy my life if hers got wet, oh _shit._ ”

“Inari, too.”

“I wouldn’t tell them.”

He really wouldn’t.

Either way, he opens the box and peeks inside. The first thing he gets his hands on are a scarf and ear muffs, both in a soft, creamy white, and they’re obviously from Haru. They’re fluffy, and he’s tempted to just put them on.

“Oh, do it, man.”

“Stop calling me out.”

He still puts them on, and they’re as amazing as he’s expected. There’s a small card, too, saying:

_May they keep you warm in the coldest winters, Akira-kun. Have a great birthday!_

Next up, there’s a bunch of books wrapped and tied together. They may be covered, but the weight gives it away. There’s no doubt they’re from Makoto. There’s a card there, too, which says:

_I hope they’re in any way useful to you. Happy birthday!_

Something tells him not to unwrap them here, so he doesn’t. Whatever they are, it’ll be something personal, and he has a hunch that they _may_ be focusing on his mental health issues.

He’ll read them, but he’ll allow himself to do it any time but now.

“This is too much already,” he comments, and everyone else laughs at him.

“Yeah, sure, dude. You’re not even like…a fifth through!”

He decides to make the rest a bit quicker, because he’ll still have the time to look at everything thoroughly later.

There’s a photo album from Shiho, which honestly surprises him, because they hardly know each other. Maybe he should shoot her a text or call once in a while.

Ann’s present are clothes, as to be expected from her, but they look like a perfect fit. Plain, simple, not in any way remarkable. There’s a huge pink heart drawn in the center of her card, and inside of that, it says:

“ _#fab #gay #proud happy birthday love u xoxo”_

“Oh, great, she’s at it again,” Ryuji mumbles, and Akira remembers that he got a very similar card for his birthday.

“I like it.”

“Ain’t that a surprise.”

He chuckles.

Yusuke’s present is just as obvious as Makoto’s, but this time, Akira _has_ to unwrap it. It’s a relatively small painting, one that – and he knows this without even having to check – would fit over his desk ideally. It shows his and Ryuji’s favorite spot in Inokashira park, and he squints over to his friend at this realization.

“Oh? You gave away our secret hideout? I’m shocked.”

“Dude, he asked for a place you like and I…I mean, you like that, don’t’ya?”

“I was kidding. I do.”

It’s _incredible_ , really. Trees and the sea shimmer in the moonlight and the angle is perfect, as if someone were looking up at the stars from exactly the right spot.

“Typical Inari. Too awkward to write a card, so he just puts birthday wishes on the back of his _painting_. Unbelievable.”

He turns it around to find that Futaba’s right.

“ _I was told that this place holds a lot of meaning for you as well as your relationship. Hopefully, it is to your tastes. Have a good birthday, leader.”_

It’s _way too much._

The rest in the box are small gifts from some of his other friends. Some mocking, some sweet, there’s really a bit of everything.

“You talked to _Kawakami?”_

It’s funny, because he knows Ryuji and she could never stand each other for tons of reasons.

“Eh, kinda. Ever since I found out she used to be a weird kinky maid, it kinda got weird in different ways than her bein’ my teacher. Is that…stupid?”

“I suppose I get it.”

After at least half an hour, he’s finally done. Everything’s piled up neatly on the table, except for Haru’s gifts that Akira is still wearing.

“Oh, finally he’s through with all this lame-o garbo. Now it’s my turn!” Futaba exclaims loudly, jumps up and runs to her room to get something. Meanwhile, Sojiro shoves something over the table and crosses his arms, smiling again, eyebrow raised.

“Figured you could need it.”

It turns out to be a full list of recipes and knowledge about both Leblanc’s curry and coffee, and honestly, it’s great and Akira wants to keep it forever.

“Thanks. For everything, really,” he answers and swallows hard, because really, it’s so much more than a recipe book that Sojiro has done for him. He’s the reason Akira has been given a second chance.

“I said it before, I’ll say it again, kid. You saved Futaba. You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Ever.”

He smiles, too, and nods.

“Akiraaaa!”

Before he can react, Futaba has thrown herself at him with something in her arms that she drops on the table. It looks like some sort of tablet computer.

“Took forever, but it’s finally done! I made some useful apps that you can use if you feel like it. There’s like, one where you can type down bad thoughts and then this huuuge dragon eats the bad words and breathes fire and good ones appear.”

“Dragons? Shit, Futaba, you’re awesome.”

“Not surprised that _Ryuji’s_ the one who freaks out.”

“Sh-shuddap, Mona!”

Instead of minding them, Akira tries the app, putting in the words _Olives are horrible._ Unsurprisingly, it works quite well, but he hasn’t expected any less from Futaba. After eating the words, the dragon – which is quite adorable, by the way – spits out the words _Olives are wonderful._

“Olives? Dude, really? That’s the first thing you come up with? You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Cut me some slack, Ryuji. I hate olives. Although I doubt this dragon will convince me otherwise. Thanks, Futaba.”

She lets go of him, grins widely and taps on the screen a few times, until something else opens. It’s a short animation with the same dragon, just that it ends up breathing the words _Happy birthday, key item!_

“Cake now!” Futaba then announces loudly, without any objections. It turns out being way too sweet for this early in the morning, but they still enjoy it, and it’s a great time. Akira doesn’t really remember ever having gotten a real birthday cake after the age of ten.

Eventually, when they’re all done, he finds himself sitting there blissfully. It’s already been a great day.

“Hey, let’s get this stuff in ya room, ‘kay?”

“Sure.”

They manage, somehow, to pile everything in the box again neatly, and before Akira can try to carry it by himself, Morgana jumps in his arms purring.

“Oh, I get it,” Ryuji exclaims loudly and sticks his tongue out at the cat, but doesn’t complain. Naturally, Akira leads the way back to his room, let’s them in and-

Wait.

There’s something new.

“He’s actually shocked.”

“Fuckin’ unbelievable. He thought I’d forgotten to get’m somethin’. This hurts right- ah shit hands full, can’t point to my heart.”

“You’re so stupid, Ryuji.”

Akira can’t be bothered with their squabble, instead walking over to the bed. There’s another box, but also a framed picture. At first glance, he can see Ann on a magazine cover, a picture of Shiho without her crutches, a piece of art he remembers Yusuke has shown at an exhibition some time ago, some certificate from a charity event where Ryuji took part, Futaba’s application for Shujin.

“See, took a while to mash all of’em together. I, uh, figured you needed a reminder of how much you’ve done for us.”

“But I-”

“Nah, dude, I mean it. Makoto wouldn’t be goin’ to the police without’ya, Futaba wouldn’t go back to school, Haru wouldn’t know what to do with her dad’s company, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be back to runnin’, even if my dream of doin’ it professionally is over. Didn’t’ya want me to cut’ya some slack? Maybe that’s what _you_ need to do.”

It’s true, so he nods, tries to accept it. Maybe he _did_ contribute to these things, even if he still believes that each of them worked hard to achieve all of this, and that he was but a supportive addend, lending them a hand.

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally admits, and it feels good to let go of the doubts even for a moment. He puts the frame on the desk so nothing happens to it, then takes the neatly wrapped box in his hands, looking over with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t gimme that, man- _Yes_ , my mom packed it, you fuckin’ happy?”

“Very.”

Ryuji’s mom is great, and this is just one of the many reasons why.

Inside the box, there’s a new notebook, the same kind he’s used to have ever since his probation. He likes writing down things in them; important events, stuff he shouldn’t forget.

“My mom remembered that yours was like, on the last pages the last time you came over.”

“It’s been a while.”

“She’s worried sick, man. And mad at me.”

He blinks and raises an eyebrow, confused about that.

“Was all kind about it, but I could see she wanted to kick my ass for not helpin’ you. She ain’t got no clue how stubborn you can be, though!”

“I’ll make sure to let her know I’m alright. Sorry, for everythin’.”

“No apologies, man. Let’s just move on, okay?”

He takes another look at the insides of the box; there’s a small tin inside, almost looking like a mini coin bank. There’s something drawn on it, reminding him of Arsene, although with Ryuji’s funny comic style, it’s a bit hard to tell – a fact that only makes it more charming, really.

“It’s uh, similar to Futaba’s, I guess? I know you ain’t good with talkin’ about these things, so I figured you kick’em in a box and we go through’em when you’re ready?”

“How perceptive.”

Morgana sounds _legitimately_ surprised.

“Hey, I know I’m loud and clumsy, but even I can come up with stuff. A-anyway, there’s another thing in there.”

It’s a letter.

“I, uh, never gave it t’you ‘cause it felt stupid, but I, ugh, I intended for you to read it after leavin’ Tokyo. It’s really cheesy and awful, you know my ability to use words, so read it when I’m gone, okay?”

“Alright.”

Without any complaints, he puts everything to the side. Sure, he’d love to read it right now, but at the same time, it might turn out to be the perfect cure for when he’s lonely someday, or needs a reminder of all the things he has.

“I was worried I wouldn’t see you today.”

“Y-yeah, I thought about givin’ you a call, but I was, uh, haha…a little anxious?”

“A little!”

Morgana’s voice is more like a scream when he jumps in Akira’s arms again, laughing maniacally.

“You should have seen him. He was freaking out the whole time. The whole train of _what if he’s sick of me_ and _I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me ever again._ Grabbing all the presents with him was so painful!”

“M-Mona!”

“It’s fine, though, because you were even worse, Akira.”

“Akira!! Your goddamn cat has no sense of decency!”

Honestly, that’s more than true, but he believes that even though Morgana teases both of them, he’s partly responsible for all of this working out so well. If a little baiting is what he asks in return, then that’s more than fine.

“Anyway, I’m leaving. If Sojiro doesn’t look, I might get a piece of the cake!”

“Isn’t chocolate toxic for cats?”

But he has already jumped off and leaves the room, heading for the kitchen, leaving them standing next to the bed a little awkwardly. In one simultaneous motion, they both let their bodies drop onto the mattress, laughing at how synced it feels.

“Hey, Akira?”

He hums, eyes closed, hand searching for Ryuji’s on the soft fabric, a single thumb caressing the back of his hand calmly.

“I hope this ain’t too much, considering you, uh…wanted some space.”

_Oh._

“I didn’t want space,” he admits shyly, still keeping his eyes closed.

“But I wasn’t ready to accept anyone’s help, and it was hurting you, too. That…I didn’t want that.”

Ryuji flinches at that, even though Akira suspects he’s been waiting for precisely those words.

“I wanna blame ya, but I know I’m the same sometimes. Dude, we should both work on that, don’t ya think?”

“One day at a time?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a warm presence against his eyebrow, his cheek, the corner of his lips, and without ever opening his eyes, he leans in for the kiss he’s been missing for so long, wanting for so long, _needing_ for _so long._

“Y-Y’know that I love you, right?”

His heart skips a beat; a warm, comforting shiver runs down his spine and he nods, hums again, leans in again, deepens the kiss, silently begs that it never ends.

“I love you, too.”

Nothing is easy, and things still hurt, he knows that. But here, safe and sound and secure, he’s ready to face that and make the best out of all that’s left to come.

_One day at a time._


	6. Starting Anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule has officially died, LOL!  
> I'll definitely finish all the prompts - right now, I just can't promise that I'll do it by 7/7. Sorry!

#6 Anniversary

It’s not an emotion he’d say he feels very often lately, but today, it’s safe to say Ryuji’s _anxious_ about what’s to come. When the train slows down, when the station appears in sight, he wants to tell himself he’s ready for what’s about to come, but even after the hours he’s had to prepare himself, he can feel a lump form in his throat, fiddles with his wristband nervously, and shifts in his seat until a  hand reaches out for his, to calm down. Honestly, it doesn’t _really_ work,  but he tries, because he isn’t the one who should be allowed to be afraid of what’s to come.

“It’s going to be fine,” Akira’s calm voice assures him – it’s collected, more so than Ryuji has expected considering their destination, and he isn’t sure if that’s truly reassuring or actually worrying.

“I dunno, dude. I-I mean, I guess if ya say so…”

The train comes to a halt slowly and they get up, grab their stuff and head out. They’ve hardly brought more than clothes for a day and toothbrushes –  in case something goes wrong and they find themselves having to stay a night – simply because they’re not planning anything fancy.

It’s anything but a vacation.

The whole village is the exact opposite of Tokyo, Ryuji notices fast. The streets aren’t half as packed, there’s empty spaces, parks, people taking walks in silence. It feels…

Decelerated.  Unlike anywhere he’s ever been to.

Were it anything but Akira’s hometown, the place he’s visibly feared the most to ever return to, Ryuji believes he could’ve found himself liking it.

As things are, he wants to throw a fit, set something on fire and tear Akira back to Tokyo, bring him back  _home_ to his friends, his  _family;_ back to where he  _belongs._

They stop by a lake not far from the station. It’s almost too peaceful, like a calm before the storm, like a toxic lullaby, luring you in to trap you inside, telling Ryuji to turn around, leave before things can out of hand.

But he’s promised, and he will keep it.

“’kay, I’m ready,” he says, tearing his eyes from the water and turning around, never having let go of Akira’s hand, never letting himself stop grinning widely. He knows why he’s here, and he’s going to make sure he does what he needs to.

There’s silence between them when they pass by the countless houses, old ladies with puppies, kids playing on the streets. There’s an unknown silence lingering – none of the commotion Tokyo has to offer or the stressful everyday life of all those busy people.

The first time Ryuji opens his mouth is when they stop, apparently having arrived at their destination.

“Holy shit, dude. I didn’t expect it to be _this_ fancy.”

“It isn’t.”

For the record: It is. There’s a welcoming hallway, leading to steps on the left, a big kitchen to the right and an open archway-like structure already showing the living room up front. They drop both shoes and bags, Akira leading the way over. It seems like they’ve actually been awaited, and the moment that Ryuji lays eyes on Akira’s parents, he understands what his friend means.

It’s fancy, but it’s suffocating.

Suddenly, he feels urged to better his posture, present himself as respectful. At first, he supposes it’s because these people are his best friend’s parents, but it doesn’t make sense – shouldn’t family be where you can be yourself? Let go of the pressure and relax?

“Ah, you made it.”

They’re disgustingly polite considering what they’ve put their son through, but Ryuji reminds himself that he’s not here to fight or get them in trouble, but to support Akira with whatever he still feels is left to do.

He accepts the distant introductions, shakes both hands he’s offered, and hopes that the shiver running down his spine from how cold, how impersonal it feels doesn’t show in any way.

“Yes. We’re going to pick up what’s left, then you’ll be rid of me.”

“Akira-”

“No. I’ve waited long enough for either of you to care.”

It’s barely a full minute since they got here, and they’re already fighting. He admires Akira’s composure, how he looks his father dead in the eye, lips a straight line, hands buried deep in his pockets; he’s digging his nails into the jeans fabric, there’s no doubt about it, and Ryuji hates the thought.

_Not yet_ , he tells himself.  _Don’t make it worse if it ain’t necessary._

It turns out to be the best choice to stay put, because just few seconds after, Akira turns around, reaches for his wrist and pulls him along, back to the hall and up the stairs, supposedly to where his room is.

_Supposedly_ is a strong term here.

It’s not the smallest room, but part of that is probably due to how  _empty_ it is. There’s everything basic – bed, wardrobe, desk – but none of the extraordinary things Akira has in Tokyo. There’s book shelves, a canvas and in the corner right underneath the window, there’s a piano that looks neither extremely used nor entirely new.

“I used to play a bit, but I’m not that good.”

“Oh, yeah, I believe you. Except you’re good at everything, so I don’t.”

He walks over curiously and sits on the small chair that he knows will hardly fit both of them. Doesn’t matter, though – they’ve shared less space and it was always comfortable enough.

“I’m not.”

Akira sits down next to him – it’s a tight fit, really, but they somehow manage. The piano’s dusty, obviously, since it hasn’t been used in at least two years, but it still gives off a welcoming charm.

“Ye, y’are. Hey, I know we’re not here t’stay, but-”

“It’s fine.”

Cautiously, he presses a key. It sounds a bit dull, but not too bad, at least if Ryuji’s highly limited knowledge about how a piano should sound has any kind of relevance. He presses another one, and  it sounds similar enough for him to believe that it’s supposed to sound like it does.

“If you say so…play for me.”

There almost on each other’s laps when Akira does, thin, swift fingers floating over the keys as if they were drawing invisible, incoherent lines on them. Ryuji has absolutely no idea  _what_ Akira’s playing for him, but he doesn’t care, either.

_It’s perfect either way._

The sound engulfs them softly, like a warm embrace blanket wrapping itself around their bodies, shielding them from what’s waiting outside of their perfect, personal bubble. Like a symphony of one, it washes away their fears, their insecurities, even if just for the shortest of moments.

Then, all out of sudden, dead silence.

“It used to be like torture. I ended up skipping practice more and more often, not knowing why I should go,” Akira explains silently, his fingers resting motionlessly, as if he’s entirely focused on not accidentally pressing any key. Then, he gets up, smiling, reaches out to help Ryuji up, too, and says:

“Maybe I’ll get a new piano one day.”

 

They end up leaving no more than two hours after they arrived, bags filled with the only things Akira still deems useful or close to his heart, letting the door fall shut without a single word of goodbyes.

“That it?” Ryuji asks when they head back down the stone stairs to get back to where they came from.

“Yes. I’m mildly surprised they weren’t lying when they said they’d kept my belongings, but that doesn’t make up for anything.”

It really doesn’t – especially not how coolly Akira’s parents have been acting, how long it took them to finally get their shit together and call. But most importantly, there is absolutely no way for them to ever redeem themselves for what they’ve been putting their own son through for years now. Abandonment, neglect, the list is seemingly endless.

“Sorry it had to end like this, man,” Ryuji offers, not sure what else there is for him to say. He hasn’t really been useful in this in any kind of way.

“It ended well, Ryuji.”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“I’m being serious. I knew they were going to act awfully no matter what, but with you around, there was nothing to worry about. I…knew I didn’t have to be scared of not belonging anywhere.”

“Of course. Y’are always gonna belong next t’me, y’know?”

“Precisely. We’re still early, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to show you something.”

They end up heading for the same lake they’d stopped at before except this time they’re approaching it from the side where there’s trees throwing big shadows on the water.

“Kinda like Inokashira lake, huh?” Ryuji thinks loudly, and Akira chuckles, laughs.

“I thought so, too, when Ann first invited me there.”

They both sit down on the cold grass, close enough to feel each other and dwell in the warmth between their bodies. The grass tickles his skin, the wind is cold in his neck, the shadow cast over their bodies rids them of the sole bit of heat coming from the sun rays, but Ryuji doesn’t complain, and instead shifts closer.

“I sat here…the whole night before leaving for Tokyo.”

_Oh._

“Is that…good or bad?”

“Back then, it was horrible, but moving was the best thing that could have happened to me, so…I’m glad I can see it again, even if only for once.”

It sounds so finite, so terminal that, since Akira doesn’t feel sad about it, Ryuji thinks he has to, vicariously. They never came here to change anything for the better; this whole day was but a charade to put an end to a long, horrible part of Akira’s life.

Ryuji’s glad about it, but also disappointed, frustrated. Back in the day, as Phantom Thieves, they could change people’s hearts, make them realize the wrong they had done and try to make amends for it. Now, they were powerless whenever something like this happened – there was no way for them to enter, manipulate and change people’s cognitive view of the world.

After helping, saving so many people, there’s nothing they can do to improve this connection in Akira’s life, and it hurts.

It’s not _fair_.

“You gonna be fine?” Ryuji asks cautiously, scowling a bit because somehow, part of him can’t help but doubt it.

“It’s going to take a while, but…I’ve realized that with time, it’ll be alright. It’s…”

And Akira chuckles, shakes his head in honest amusement, covers his mouth with one hand to pull himself together, but fails. Even when he stops, there’s a smile on his face, mirrored on the still water right to their feet.

It’s pretty, but it’s also bittersweet.

“It’s a little poetic. And embarrassing to think about like that, really.”

“How so?”

“Everything they’ve done was toxic, to the point where sometimes – just rarely, really – I wondered if it all even matters. But if they are virus trying to get to me, then…you’re like a bandage on my soul.”

“That is poetic. And, duh, sappy as hell-woah!”

He’s laughing when he shoves Ryuji into the grass and resorts to tickling as punishment, but that’s fine; not like he hasn’t deserved that.

“N-no, Akira, _please_ , I- haha- I didn’t mean that in a bad way _dude have mercy!”_

He doesn’t, apparently, because he goes on until he feels like he’s gone far enough. They’re both panting, but at least it feels as if the exhausting tension that’s been somewhere between them has cleared up.

“You deserved this.”

“I…did. Jeez, can’t breath. G-get up.”

They do, now leaning closer together than before. Ryuji realizes that the sun already starts setting, so they should get going soon. Before he can mention that, though, Akira reaches over to his luggage and speaks up again.

“If you don’t mind, there’s…one more thing I’d like to do.”

It’s a folded sheet, and he doesn’t need to explain a word, because Ryuji would recognize it in a million years and probably even blindly, somehow.

It’s that stupid letter he wrote exactly one year ago, after they’d _somehow_ established their relationship. Realizing that this might be the precise reason Akira wanted to go here today, Ryuji blushes, because he’d actually not giving the precise date any thought until now.

“Oh, great,” he starts, leg twitching nervously. He’s not ashamed of what he wrote back then, but there’s a reason he told Akira to read it some other time – it’s embarrassing as hell, and Ryuji can imagine at least fifty things that sound more pleasing than listening or seeing his own clumsy, desperate, cheesy words ever again.

“I don’t have to-”

“Shuddap and read it already.”

He looks away, aware that he’s turning red. No matter if it’s been a year, most of the words he’s written are still _highly_ prominent on his mind – first, because it’s taken him a lifetime or two to get them written; second, because they mean enough that even someone like him manages to remember them.

There’s a long silence between them, way longer than reading it could take, but he figures that makes sense. It’s a throwback to how things used to be before this new life of theirs – back when the Metaverse was still a topic, when they’d still dreaded the future, when uncertainty had constantly tried to get the best of them.

“You wrote this after…”

“After that super weird, stupid confession or whatever it was in Inokashira, yeah. It’s embarrassing, don’t remind me.”

“But it’s not.”

He looks over again, sees Akira hug his knees, holding the letter in front of them, fingers tracing the scrawly words. Obviously, he manages to make it look sacred, somehow, just like almost everything he does looks.

“I’m glad I never went back. Even more than before, you know?”

“Y-yeah. I guess.”

“Let’s go.”

They should.

When the finally reach their train and grab a seat, the acceleration turning the nature around them into a colorful mess, Akira never looks up from where his head is calmly lying on Ryuji’s shoulder, eyes closed and body relaxed. It’s as if he’s trying to never look back, no matter what living here might have meant to him, once.

“It’s best this way,” he mutters silently, the soft smile on his lips almost making it seem like he believes that. He leans into the touch on his head, the hand combing through his hair, and sighs peacefully once or twice.

“Maybe you’re right,” Ryuji tries, forcing himself never to look back at the place they are leaving behind ever again.

“We’ll make our next anniversary better than this one, whaddya say?!”

“Anything’s good, as long as you’re with me.”

His heart skips a beat.

But he feels the same, so he nods with a short hum, let’s his eyes fall shut, too, and reminds himself of all they’ve conquered together. They’ve been through so much, and no matter what the world decides to throw at them, he finally believes that they’ll be able to deal with it, too.

Finally, the future is theirs to claim.


	7. Vows To Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I press some sort of societal existential crisis into a prompt so wholesome. ;_; I'm sorry.

#7 Partners in Crime

Ever since the day they met, they‘ve been confidants, maybe even more than that. Every good achievement in battle was awarded with a clap on the back, a supportive smile, a thumb raised into the air; every tough battle’s pain healed with thoughtful, patient massages, hugs and comforting words.

Ever since the day they met, they’ve been meant to be.

So it’s not that much of a surprise that when Akira strolls the mall in Shibuya with Ann, listening to her talk about Shiho’s recovery, that he suddenly finds himself stopping when he sees a couple hugging tightly, kissing, blissfully smiling at each other, and notices the shining silver rings on their fingers.

He hums, and Morgana starts gagging simultaneously.

“You’re not serious, Akira!”

“Don’t be like that, Morgana. I wasn’t going to.”

_Yet._

“What are you talking about?” Ann interrupts them and comes to a halt just a step or two ahead of them, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Since it’s nothing but a stupid thought that came to his mind, Akira doesn’t really deem it worthy to be explained, but Morgana’s faster than he is, and, in a tone as annoyed as he can probably manage, states:

“This guy wants to get _married_.”

“I don’t-”

But Ann is squealing already, as if that’s the best thing she’s heard all week, and jumps at him for a hug. Thinking about it, Akira should have expected her to react like this and make a big joke out of it, but it’s quite the surprise.

“Of course I do want to! Hah, I thought you’d never ask.”

Then, she lets go, grins at him and shakes her head, eyebrow yet again raised.

“Honestly, though, you should. And both of you should wear dresses.”

“Ann.”

She doesn’t let it go for the rest of the day, to the point where Akira _actually_ finds himself imagining it – Ryuji and himself wearing white, frilly dresses, being stupid like they always are, but nonetheless sharing a vow that’s meant to last for the rest of their lives.

He let’s her laugh about it, even joins in here and there, but still allows himself to think that it doesn’t really sound _that_ unimaginable.

One day, maybe.

\--- ---

He doesn’t expect a reminder of that occurrence anytime soon, so he’s caught off guard when Ann suddenly drops it like a bomb the next time they all meet.

“It’s a pretty dress and you know it! I bet it’d look good on you, Ryuji. Don’t you agree, Akira?”

Before he even has the time to roll his eyes at her, she’s cackling, so instead, he shoots Ryuji an apologetic look, hoping that they can file it as _just another one of Ann’s ridiculously romantic gay ideas_.

To his surprise, though, they can’t.

“You’re just jelly, Ann.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard me. You jelly cause this guy wouldn’t ask ya to marry him? No, wait, you’re a useless lesbian, of course you ain’t.”

And because she really deserves it, Akira’s lip twitches and he raises an eyebrow, cockily stating:

“Lesbi-Ann, huh?”

“Akira.”

“Hi.”

It’s obvious how she wants to look offended, but she cracks and giggles when he raises his hand and shows her a peace sign with the most bored look on his face he can possibly pull.

“You asked for this.”

“I did. Still! You should consider it.”

_If only you knew._

“Ann, these guns won’t look good in a dress, you know that!”

Ryuji proudly points at his biceps, grinning widely, and although he’s definitely the most muscular one of the three of them, Akira can’t help but think that he’d still look the best in a dress.

Maybe he’s just biased, though.

“Sure, Ryuji, I’ll let you believe that. Either way, we’d need something cool to call you.”

“Call?”

“You know how they usually say you’re pronounced _husband and wife_ and all? That’s so lame, though. And not romantic.”

“You got a better idea or what?”

 _They’re honestly discussing this_ , Akira thinks, shaking his head in utter disbelief. He doesn’t mind that much, but it still confuses him.

“Obviously I do. It should be something like _I pronounce you gay partners in crime._ ”

“What?! That’s horrible!”

“Oh, come on! What about _dirty gay criminals_?”

“Uh, guess what? No?!”

They go on for at least fifteen minutes, the suggestions rather getting worse than better. Ann’s creative, Akira has to give her that, but he still doubts that _fabulous unicorns_ makes for the best thing to call a freshly married couple.

Besides the fact that this whole ordeal is supposed to be a joke to begin with.

 

Even so, when they finally part ways in the evening, Ann blowing them a kiss and winking smugly before closing the door, he still can’t help finding the idea a bit charming. Not today, not tomorrow, but sometime in a far-away future.

“Ann is hopeless,” he starts carefully, reaching out to intertwine their fingers and swing their arms a bit. It’s become almost natural in how long they’ve been together, but there’s always still the soft sparkles, his heart skipping a beat when the gesture’s returned.

“For real, dude. Although she does have a point, dont’ya think?”

“Hm?”

They stop right next to a small playground and decide to sit on the swings wordlessly, Ryuji actually making an effort in showing his skills while Akira just watches silently, smiling to himself, patiently waiting for the answer. Eventually, Ryuji slows down, stops and looks at his feet, scowling a bit if he’s ever.

“It’s just a dumb thought, I guess.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“H-huh? Yeah, right…”

He harrumphs, looks away, makes a nervous sound and looks back, lips pursed and hands fiddling with his sleeve. It’s honestly charming to look at, especially since he’s blushing, too.

“What are you afraid of?” Akira asks quietly, a smile on his face, not sure if this whole thing really is worth worrying about. Most of it really was a joke, after all.

“N-nothin’! It’s just, Ann’s makin’ fun of us an’ all, and I don’t really care, but like, what if…y’know.”

Ryuji sighs, closes his eyes and forces it out in one quick go.

“Would people still make jokes if we really did get married one day?”

There’s dead silence between them. It’s not exactly uncomfortable or bad, but there’s something to it, a lingering negativity, a kind of anxiousness Akira can’t pin down. That’s always been a topic _somehow_ , even if they never really talked about it. People giving them looks, making jokes – no matter if there was bad intent to them or not. Personally, he can’t say he cares, but he’s aware it’s always been more of burden for Ryuji.

“I…don’t know,” he admits, momentarily wishing he’d still wear his fake glasses just so he could push them up now and occupy his fingers, even if just for a moment. His hands tightly grab the cold swing, and he can’t help but wonder, too.

“Would it really be worth caring about, though? People have been labeling us for such a long time now, and we’ve never let it get to us.”

“That’s _different_ , though.”

_How so?_

It’s more private, more intimate than being called a criminal, a delinquent, or a troublemaker, that’s true, but even so – they’ve had it all thrown in their faces, and they’ve always looked it right in the eyes and fought back.

Akira doubts they’d ever stop fighting.

“I’m sorry it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t! That’s the fuckin’ problem. Ugh. Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

He nods, and without another word, they do. Getting home never even once felt so long before, even though they’re still walking hand in hand, wordlessly deciding where they’re headed. It’s a silent train ride, it’s a silent, short walk.

Finally, they fall onto the bed in unison, never letting go, never saying a word. Morgana’s still gone, so the only noise between them is their adjusting breaths, the sound of fingers touching fabrics, of legs brushing against each other’s.

It’s peaceful, but there’s a kind of insecurity between them Akira hasn’t experienced before. And it worries him.

“Great. Now I made you uncomfy, man.”

“No. I’m just…”

_Scared. Anxious. Troubled. Exhausted. Worried._

“Concerned. About what you said – or, well; about what you didn’t say.”

“Ugh, fine then.”

In one swift motion, Ryuji gets up, sits on the bed with crossed legs and lets go. Akira mourns the loss of their touch immediately, but doesn’t say a thing when he gets up, too, and leans against the wall next to the bed, hand restlessly playing with the blanket next to his hip. He wants to reach out again, but he doesn’t dare.

“People always looked at me funny, even when I was still the _track star_ , y’know? Reasons’ve changed, but the fact itself hasn’t. I didn’t care, ‘cause who cares if they’re jelly or don’t like the way I talk? Let’em, if it makes’em happy.”

Ryuji sighs, sounding a mix between worried and annoyed, scowls, then lets his head drop into Akira’s lap out of nowhere, thrumming on his chest with one hand and grabbing his wrist with the other.

“I just…don’t care if people try to break me.”

He sighs, closes his eyes and swallows, the worried look still on his face when he whispers the explanation, so silently that Akira has to lean forward to properly hear it.

“I do care if they try to break _us._ ”

_That’s right._

Without a second thought, he bends over for a soft, silent, and simple kiss on Ryuji’s forehead, because now, he understands. Their individual reputation is something neither of them have ever cared about, but their relationship is something sacred, something delicate and fragile that neither of them wants to allow the world to try and harm.

“I see.”

He rests his lips right there, closes his eyes at the touch when fingers calmly comb through his hair, hums even though it’s far from the most comfortable position they’ve ever been in. As long as they’re together, that’s still more than enough.

“I promise we wouldn’t let them – no matter what.”

“Y-yeah, I was thinkin’ that, too, honestly.”

“Just kiss already.”

The dull _thump_ of cat feet hitting the floor below the window catches both of them off guard, because Akira flinches and Ryuji jumps, knocking their heads together badly.

“Mona, what are you-!”

“Morgana, why now?”

“I _live here_ , you morons!”

To be fair, he’s right about that, so they can hardly blame when the cat jumps up on the bed and settles down on Ryuji’s chest, rendering him unable to get up for the time being – it’s like an unwritten rule, really; if there’s a Morgana on your chest, you’re not allowed to move, unless it’s for petting him.

…or, well, returning a kiss, because Ryuji tips his chin up quickly, and that’s enough of a motion for Akira to brush their lips together, lean his cheek against the fingers that gingerly caress his skin.

They part almost as fast as it happened, but stay close – close enough to take in every detail of each other’s smile, close enough to feel each other’s warm breath, feel hair tickle on their skins.

“One day,” Akira murmurs calmly, faithfully, and watches Ryuji’s lips curl to a grin.

“Yeah. I’ll rock that dress, promise.”

There’s a hiss coming from the side, and they both chuckle at it.

“Morgana will bring the rings.”

“In your dreams!”

Maybe so.


	8. In It Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahah! Hi.  
> I want to finish these over the course of the week, but ehhhh no promises :3  
> I dedicate this chapter to [lod](https://archiveofourown.com/users/lod) for the brief inclusion of a certain ship.

#8 Rivals

It’s a stupid idea, really.

The day could have been so normal, so regular, so relaxed; them chilling inside all day, playing games, reading manga, and watching shitty TV shows.

It’s _such_ a stupid idea.

But for some reason, Ryuji finds himself staring at the mirror for a decent five minutes, trying to figure out how to put on a  _tie_ , out of all things. And that’s on top of the fact that he’s wearing a suit which he feels looks ridiculous, especially since it goes against his entire nature.

He hears a snicker from the bed and turns to Morgana, who’s giving him an amused look. Goddamn cat making fun of him again, but Ryuji supposes that this time, he’s had it coming.

“Don’t gimme that stupid look, cat. You wouldn’t do any better.”

“I have paws, you imbecile!”

“I don’t care! Your stupid gigglin’ makes me nervous!”

They’re still on when the door opens and Ryuji turns his head. If the tie weren’t already – very loosely – hanging around his neck, he’d probably drop it, but as it is, he just stares blankly and performs a questioning, sweeping gesture.

“D-dude, how?!”

“Hm?”

Akira sounds surprised, but there’s this super-poised, super-self-aware, super-attractive smile on his lips when he walks in, seemingly ready to go. Needless to say, everything that makes Ryuji look like an intense moron looks  _amazing_ on him – the suit, the tie, even the  _shoes_ .

It’s not fair at all.

“I heard some buffoon could need your help.”

“Sh-shudapp, Mona! Goddamn it.”

“Oh?”

He smiles,  and it’s so thin and smug and arrogant that if it were anyone else, Ryuji would want to punch it right off – but it’s Akira, so instead, it makes him blush, scratch the back of his  head nervously and turn away to face the mirror again, lips pressed together tightly.  With little hope, he starts another attempt at fixing his tie – it’s not  like he c ouldn’ t do it  _at all_ , it just ends up being too lose or lopsided, looking more goofy than anything.

S ighing in defeat, he looks down on himself. The suit is fine, he guesses – not surprising, since Akira picked it. The shoes…questionable, but that’s just how it is if you’re used to sneakers year-round. The tie is obviously a big disaster, if only for the fact that Ryuji doesn’t know how to properly put it on. It wouldn’t save the grand picture if it were done correctly – him not being the kind of guy to wear a suit – but it would still help a bit.

Suddenly, there’s hands on his sides, pulling him into a hug, and Akira’s warm breath tickles his neck, immediately giving him the worst goosebumps. It doesn’t go unnoticed, obviously, and Akira’s  chuckling before Ryuji has the chance to call him  an asshole, so he skips doing it entirely.

“I could…help you fix it, if you want.”

“Y-yeah,” he answers before swallowing hard, looking up to see swift hands taking off his tie and starting anew. It’s a process of maybe fifteen seconds if done right, Ryuji knows that, but since it’s Akira, _of course_ he takes his goddamn time, does it painfully slowly, as if he were playing a game.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, dude.”

“Did you pick the suggestive wording on purpose, or…”

He barely gets to choke on his own breath before Akira’s laughing again and finally properly fixes the tie and also readjusts the suit a bit so it looks more decent.

It’s actually not  _that_ bad, Ryuji supposes. 

“Remind me why we’re doin’ this?” he asks casually, his posture returning to how bad it always is within a heartbeat – he can’t help it, it’s just part of himself.

“Because, to quote Futaba, _even Inari and I would look more proper on a date than you two_ _wannabe-nerds_ , and you know I can’t let something like that go without consequences.”

“The consequence bein’ us provin’ her right ‘cause I’m a big moron?”

“He’s got a point.”

They both shoot Morgana a glare simultaneously, but he has already turned away and curled up to a ball.

“Ryuji,” Akira starts then when they finally turn to face each other, fixes his hair and inspects the outcome. “You’re already outdoing them by far, and we’re not even there.”

“Aren’t’ya a charmer, dude.”

“You love it.”

Hell if he’s not right about that, because Ryuji  _does_ .  No one has ever appreciated him the same way Akira does without lying, except his mom maybe, but that’s just  _different_ . Ryuji still feels like a big chunky dork, but it’s only half as bad as it would be with anyone else around.

“Yeh, whatever. Let’s just go, man.”

 

It’s not the kind of  _date_ they usually have. That much they could have expected, considering they’re four instead of two people, but somehow, that’s not it. Ryuji doesn’t mind being with Futaba and Yusuke – although he’s still not sure if it’s just a means to an end or if they’re  _actually_ dating, because their body language sure doesn’t give anything away about it – and he doesn’t necessarily mind them invading in what could have been a chill day with Akira.

But there is  _something_ Ryuji minds, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to pin it down. After all, things are fine – they’re having fun pretending to be some fancy people in fancy outfits dining in a fancy restaurant, while actually spending their time joking about some of Futaba’s weird meme-jokes and staring at Yusuke’s newest sketch in awe. It’s a good time, really.

“So, you’re not as much losers as I expected, but…definitely still the loser-couple.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

He watches Akira and Futaba argue and remembers. This is the reason they went on this weird double-date-thingy – a couple-rivalry. A battle of sorts.

“An argument between siblings…interesting.”

Naturally, Yusuke looks entertained,  _inspired_ even, because when isn’t he ever. There’s no doubt they’re the weirdest group of people here.

“It’s pretty lame, don’t’ya think?”

“How so?”

“We know none of’em are gonna back down from this, so where’s the point, dude?”

He puts the sketchbook to the side, and visibly thinks about his choice of words carefully before taking a deep breath. He’s _so_ dramatic.

“It might be a mindless squabble, but they’re still fighting with their heart put into it. All for the honor of their partner. Isn’t that endearing?”

Ryuji’s mouth drops. He looks from Yusuke over to Futaba.

_They’re_ so _dating._

Then his eyes find Akira’s, who’s just turned to him and gives him a warm smile, tilting his head and nodding approvingly, as if he knew whatever  is going on in Ryuji’s head.

Joke’s on him, tough, because Ryuji doesn’t even know that himself.

He thinks about the way Akira has been planning the day – the location, their outfits; handpicking the suits and ties and shoes to make sure it all fits together. Until now, it has never occurred to Ryuji that there could be more to this than some hardly funny joke, a  _mindless squabble,_ as Yusuke put it.

Suddenly, there’s a fire within him.  H e looks from Yusuke to Futaba back to Akira again, lets his hand slide over the table nervously, fingers trembling  almost aggressively, r eaches for Akira’s, traces over the s oft s kin carefully, slowly.  Ryuji watches his own movement before looking up, ignor es the prominent blush exploding warmly on his cheeks, takes a deep breath and wills his voice to stay calm as he silently murmurs:

“I love you.”

For a long, a  _very long_ moment, there’s dead silence, so heavy that he swears he can feel his heart skip a beat or two. But then, Futaba is squeaking, Yusuke hums pleasantly and Akira’s eyes widen, a faint pink rising to his cheeks as well. Ryuji believes that that’s enough to make them the winner couple in this useless rivalry, but it wouldn’t be them if the cake were to be left without an icing.

Maybe that’s why he mildly expects the way Akira leans over the table, reaches for the black tie around Ryuji’s neck and pulls slightly, brings him in closer and doesn’t even hesitate before gently kissing him.

It’s, by all means, not their first kiss. They’ve shared dozens, hundreds, thousands; covered in huge blankets, lying in the cold grass, in the gym shower after work-out, under the cover of an umbrella hiding them during an evening rainstorm. They’re always close, be it when it’s just the two of them or when they meet up with the rest of the former Thieves, and Ryuji supposes that even without pressing their lips together, their body language has always been an obvious giveaway towards literally  _everyone_ who ever spent time with them, but…

Somehow, openly leaning over a restaurant table after an unnecessarily shy confession, lips brushing against each other’s slowly, easily enough to feel casual, carefully enough to  send goosebumps right down Ryuji’s spine – it’s different, new, makes him relive the memory of sitting in Inokashira with Akira back after their second year had ended, reminds Ryuji of them falling into the sand when Akira had told them he wouldn’t go back home, throws him back to how being able to call Akira  _his_ had given him a purpose, a  _reason_ to go on, to fight for a future that he’d hardly hoped for a few years ago.

Before he even manages to close his eyes, to lean in fully, he’s pulled back into the here and now, the reality that they’re not on their own – by Futaba squealing loudly enough to alarm the guests on the table next to theirs, and Yusuke’s pencil audibly flying over the paper as if his life depended on it.

Thus, they part, faces lingering just before each other’s, Akira’s piercing gray eyes filled with a warm, pleasant desire that Ryuji knows his own  _try_ to mirror, even if he’s aware of how big and tubby they are.

“I love you, too.”

He’s not sure if Futaba is still freaking out, because his heart races so immensely that he feels it  beating  in his ears, the world turning off around himself.  Sometimes, it’s easy to forget – when things get difficult, when the world scares him, when nothing seems to make sense. But right here,  fingers playing around each other’s quietly, losing himself in the same stormy eyes that once reawakened the fire within him, Ryuji knows that above everything, he’s lucky.

When they finally leave, Futaba tugging on Yusuke’s coat because he’s busy staring at the moon and doesn’t pay her enough attention, Ryuji embraces the playful rivalry, the intensity of Akira’s devotion, the fact that they would  _truly_ fight for their honor as long as they need to, even if it’s by wearing suits or sheepishly kissing in a restaurant.

“I’d say we quite easily won this.”

Futaba screams words of disagreement, but Ryuji talks over them with determination, and his lips curl up to a wide grin.

“Dude, you bet. ‘t was…”

_It was all you._

“’t was totally worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://bluetenspleisser.tumblr.com/). <3


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